Complete Works of Joseph Conrad (Illustrated) (15 page)

BOOK: Complete Works of Joseph Conrad (Illustrated)
8.45Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

In her impatience she left the path and ran towards Almayer’s dwelling through the undergrowth between the palm trees.  She came out at the back of the house, where a narrow ditch, full of stagnant water that overflowed from the river, separated Almayer’s campong from the rest of the settlement.  The thick bushes growing on the bank were hiding from her sight the large courtyard with its cooking shed.  Above them rose several thin columns of smoke, and from behind the sound of strange voices informed Taminah that the Men of the Sea belonging to the warship had already landed and were camped between the ditch and the house.  To the left one of Almayer’s slave-girls came down to the ditch and bent over the shiny water, washing a kettle.  To the right the tops of the banana plantation, visible above the bushes, swayed and shook under the touch of invisible hands gathering the fruit.  On the calm water several canoes moored to a heavy stake were crowded together, nearly bridging the ditch just at the place where Taminah stood.  The voices in the courtyard rose at times into an outburst of calls, replies, and laughter, and then died away into a silence that soon was broken again by a fresh clamour.  Now and again the thin blue smoke rushed out thicker and blacker, and drove in odorous masses over the creek, wrapping her for a moment in a suffocating veil; then, as the fresh wood caught well alight, the smoke vanished in the bright sunlight, and only the scent of aromatic wood drifted afar, to leeward of the crackling fires.

Taminah rested her tray on a stump of a tree, and remained standing with her eyes turned towards Almayer’s house, whose roof and part of a whitewashed wall were visible over the bushes.  The slave-girl finished her work, and after looking for a while curiously at Taminah, pushed her way through the dense thicket back to the courtyard.  Round Taminah there was now a complete solitude.  She threw herself down on the ground, and hid her face in her hands.  Now when so close she had no courage to see Nina.  At every burst of louder voices from the courtyard she shivered in the fear of hearing Nina’s voice.  She came to the resolution of waiting where she was till dark, and then going straight to Dain’s hiding-place.  From where she was she could watch the movements of white men, of Nina, of all Dain’s friends, and of all his enemies.  Both were hateful alike to her, for both would take him away beyond her reach.  She hid herself in the long grass to wait anxiously for the sunset that seemed so slow to come.

On the other side of the ditch, behind the bush, by the clear fires, the seamen of the frigate had encamped on the hospitable invitation of Almayer.  Almayer, roused out of his apathy by the prayers and importunity of Nina, had managed to get down in time to the jetty so as to receive the officers at their landing.  The lieutenant in command accepted his invitation to his house with the remark that in any case their business was with Almayer — and perhaps not very pleasant, he added.  Almayer hardly heard him.  He shook hands with them absently and led the way towards the house.  He was scarcely conscious of the polite words of welcome he greeted the strangers with, and afterwards repeated several times over again in his efforts to appear at ease.  The agitation of their host did not escape the officer’s eyes, and the chief confided to his subordinate, in a low voice, his doubts as to Almayer’s sobriety.  The young sub-lieutenant laughed and expressed in a whisper the hope that the white man was not intoxicated enough to neglect the offer of some refreshments.  “He does not seem very dangerous,” he added, as they followed Almayer up the steps of the verandah.

“No, he seems more of a fool than a knave; I have heard of him,” returned the senior.

They sat around the table.  Almayer with shaking hands made gin cocktails, offered them all round, and drank himself, with every gulp feeling stronger, steadier, and better able to face all the difficulties of his position.  Ignorant of the fate of the brig he did not suspect the real object of the officer’s visit.  He had a general notion that something must have leaked out about the gunpowder trade, but apprehended nothing beyond some temporary inconveniences.  After emptying his glass he began to chat easily, lying back in his chair with one of his legs thrown negligently over the arm.  The lieutenant astride on his chair, a glowing cheroot in the corner of his mouth, listened with a sly smile from behind the thick volumes of smoke that escaped from his compressed lips.  The young sub-lieutenant, leaning with both elbows on the table, his head between his hands, looked on sleepily in the torpor induced by fatigue and the gin.  Almayer talked on —

“It is a great pleasure to see white faces here.  I have lived here many years in great solitude.  The Malays, you understand, are not company for a white man; moreover they are not friendly; they do not understand our ways.  Great rascals they are.  I believe I am the only white man on the east coast that is a settled resident.  We get visitors from Macassar or Singapore sometimes — traders, agents, or explorers, but they are rare.  There was a scientific explorer here a year or more ago.  He lived in my house: drank from morning to night.  He lived joyously for a few months, and when the liquor he brought with him was gone he returned to Batavia with a report on the mineral wealth of the interior.  Ha, ha, ha!  Good, is it not?”

He ceased abruptly and looked at his guests with a meaningless stare.  While they laughed he was reciting to himself the old story: “Dain dead, all my plans destroyed.  This is the end of all hope and of all things.”  His heart sank within him.  He felt a kind of deadly sickness.

“Very good.  Capital!” exclaimed both officers.  Almayer came out of his despondency with another burst of talk.

“Eh! what about the dinner?  You have got a cook with you.  That’s all right.  There is a cooking shed in the other courtyard.  I can give you a goose.  Look at my geese — the only geese on the east coast — perhaps on the whole island.  Is that your cook?  Very good.  Here, Ali, show this Chinaman the cooking place and tell Mem Almayer to let him have room there.  My wife, gentlemen, does not come out; my daughter may.  Meantime have some more drink.  It is a hot day.”

The lieutenant took the cigar out of his mouth, looked at the ash critically, shook it off and turned towards Almayer.

“We have a rather unpleasant business with you,” he said.

“I am sorry,” returned Almayer.  “It can be nothing very serious, surely.”

“If you think an attempt to blow up forty men at least, not a serious matter you will not find many people of your opinion,” retorted the officer sharply.

“Blow up!  What?  I know nothing about it,” exclaimed Almayer.  “Who did that, or tried to do it?”

“A man with whom you had some dealings,” answered the lieutenant.  “He passed here under the name of Dain Maroola.  You sold him the gunpowder he had in that brig we captured.”

“How did you hear about the brig?” asked Almayer.  “I know nothing about the powder he may have had.”

“An Arab trader of this place has sent the information about your goings on here to Batavia, a couple of months ago,” said the officer.  “We were waiting for the brig outside, but he slipped past us at the mouth of the river, and we had to chase the fellow to the southward.  When he sighted us he ran inside the reefs and put the brig ashore.  The crew escaped in boats before we could take possession.  As our boats neared the craft it blew up with a tremendous explosion; one of the boats being too near got swamped.  Two men drowned — that is the result of your speculation, Mr. Almayer.  Now we want this Dain.  We have good grounds to suppose he is hiding in Sambir.  Do you know where he is?  You had better put yourself right with the authorities as much as possible by being perfectly frank with me.  Where is this Dain?”

Almayer got up and walked towards the balustrade of the verandah.  He seemed not to be thinking of the officer’s question.  He looked at the body laying straight and rigid under its white cover on which the sun, declining amongst the clouds to the westward, threw a pale tinge of red.  The lieutenant waited for the answer, taking quick pulls at his half-extinguished cigar.  Behind them Ali moved noiselessly laying the table, ranging solemnly the ill-assorted and shabby crockery, the tin spoons, the forks with broken prongs, and the knives with saw-like blades and loose handles.  He had almost forgotten how to prepare the table for white men.  He felt aggrieved; Mem Nina would not help him.  He stepped back to look at his work admiringly, feeling very proud.  This must be right; and if the master afterwards is angry and swears, then so much the worse for Mem Nina.  Why did she not help?  He left the verandah to fetch the dinner.

“Well, Mr. Almayer, will you answer my question as frankly as it is put to you?” asked the lieutenant, after a long silence.

Almayer turned round and looked at his interlocutor steadily.  “If you catch this Dain what will you do with him?” he asked.

The officer’s face flushed.  “This is not an answer,” he said, annoyed.

“And what will you do with me?” went on Almayer, not heeding the interruption.

“Are you inclined to bargain?” growled the other.  “It would be bad policy, I assure you.  At present I have no orders about your person, but we expected your assistance in catching this Malay.”

“Ah!” interrupted Almayer, “just so: you can do nothing without me, and I, knowing the man well, am to help you in finding him.”

“This is exactly what we expect,” assented the officer.  “You have broken the law, Mr. Almayer, and you ought to make amends.”

“And save myself?”

“Well, in a sense yes.  Your head is not in any danger,” said the lieutenant, with a short laugh.

“Very well,” said Almayer, with decision, “I shall deliver the man up to you.”

Both officers rose to their feet quickly, and looked for their side-arms which they had unbuckled.  Almayer laughed harshly.

“Steady, gentlemen!” he exclaimed.  “In my own time and in my own way.  After dinner, gentlemen, you shall have him.”

“This is preposterous,” urged the lieutenant.  “Mr. Almayer, this is no joking matter.  The man is a criminal.  He deserves to hang.  While we dine he may escape; the rumour of our arrival — ”

Almayer walked towards the table.  “I give you my word of honour, gentlemen, that he shall not escape; I have him safe enough.”

“The arrest should be effected before dark,” remarked the young sub.

“I shall hold you responsible for any failure.  We are ready, but can do nothing just now without you,” added the senior, with evident annoyance.

Almayer made a gesture of assent.  “On my word of honour,” he repeated vaguely.  “And now let us dine,” he added briskly.

Nina came through the doorway and stood for a moment holding the curtain aside for Ali and the old Malay woman bearing the dishes; then she moved towards the three men by the table.

“Allow me,” said Almayer, pompously.  “This is my daughter.  Nina, these gentlemen, officers of the frigate outside, have done me the honour to accept my hospitality.”

Nina answered the low bows of the two officers by a slow inclination of the head and took her place at the table opposite her father.  All sat down.  The coxswain of the steam launch came up carrying some bottles of wine.

“You will allow me to have this put upon the table?” said the lieutenant to Almayer.

“What!  Wine!  You are very kind.  Certainly, I have none myself.  Times are very hard.”

The last words of his reply were spoken by Almayer in a faltering voice.  The thought that Dain was dead recurred to him vividly again, and he felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his throat.  He reached for the gin bottle while they were uncorking the wine and swallowed a big gulp.  The lieutenant, who was speaking to Nina, gave him a quick glance.  The young sub began to recover from the astonishment and confusion caused by Nina’s unexpected appearance and great beauty.  “She was very beautiful and imposing,” he reflected, “but after all a half-caste girl.”  This thought caused him to pluck up heart and look at Nina sideways.  Nina, with composed face, was answering in a low, even voice the elder officer’s polite questions as to the country and her mode of life.  Almayer pushed his plate away and drank his guest’s wine in gloomy silence.

 

CHAPTER IX.

 

“Can I believe what you tell me?  It is like a tale for men that listen only half awake by the camp fire, and it seems to have run off a woman’s tongue.”

“Who is there here for me to deceive, O Rajah?” answered Babalatchi.  “Without you I am nothing.  All I have told you I believe to be true.  I have been safe for many years in the hollow of your hand.  This is no time to harbour suspicions.  The danger is very great.  We should advise and act at once, before the sun sets.”

“Right.  Right,” muttered Lakamba, pensively.

They had been sitting for the last hour together in the audience chamber of the Rajah’s house, for Babalatchi, as soon as he had witnessed the landing of the Dutch officers, had crossed the river to report to his master the events of the morning, and to confer with him upon the line of conduct to pursue in the face of altered circumstances.  They were both puzzled and frightened by the unexpected turn the events had taken.  The Rajah, sitting crosslegged on his chair, looked fixedly at the floor; Babalatchi was squatting close by in an attitude of deep dejection.

“And where did you say he is hiding now?” asked Lakamba, breaking at last the silence full of gloomy forebodings in which they both had been lost for a long while.

“In Bulangi’s clearing — the furthest one, away from the house.  They went there that very night.  The white man’s daughter took him there.  She told me so herself, speaking to me openly, for she is half white and has no decency.  She said she was waiting for him while he was here; then, after a long time, he came out of the darkness and fell at her feet exhausted.  He lay like one dead, but she brought him back to life in her arms, and made him breathe again with her own breath.  That is what she said, speaking to my face, as I am speaking now to you, Rajah.  She is like a white woman and knows no shame.”

He paused, deeply shocked.  Lakamba nodded his head.  “Well, and then?” he asked.

Other books

Hotwire by Alex Kava
Fallen Land by Patrick Flanery
Withstanding Me by Crystal Spears
Remainder by Tom McCarthy
Churchill's Secret War by Madhusree Mukerjee
A Wicked Way to Burn by Margaret Miles
The Victim by Jonas Saul