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Updated: June 24, 2025
Beyond the simple wish to guide Lingard's thought in the direction of Hassim and Immada, to help him to make up his mind at last to a ruthless fidelity to his purpose Jorgenson had no other aim. The existence of those whites had no meaning on earth. They were the sort of people that pass without leaving footprints. That woman would have to act in ignorance.
Travers." Hassim and Immada looked up. "You see," exclaimed Lingard. "What did I tell you? He's keeping his eye on me! On board my own ship. Am I dreaming? Am I in a fever? Tell him to come down," he said after a pause. Mrs. Travers did so and Lingard thought her voice very commanding and very sweet. "There's nothing in the world I love so much as this brig," he went on. "Nothing in the world.
The Illanuns, trusting to the sea, kept very bad watch on their prisoners, and had he been able to speak with them Hassim thought an escape could have been effected. But they could not have understood his signs and still less his words. He consulted with his sister. Immada murmured sadly; at their feet the ripple broke with a mournful sound no louder than their voices.
"Why have you been avoiding me since we came back from the stockade?" she asked in a deadened voice. "There is nothing to tell you till Rajah Hassim and his sister Immada return with some news," Lingard answered in the same tone. "Has my friend succeeded? Will Belarab listen to any arguments? Will he consent to come out of his shell? Is he on his way back?
"Let them die!" cried Immada, triumphantly. Though Lingard alone understood the meaning of these words, all on board felt oppressed by the uneasy silence which followed her cry. "Ah! He is going. Now, Mrs. Travers," whispered d'Alcacer. "I hope!" said Mrs. Travers, impulsively, and stopped as if alarmed at the sound. Lingard stood still.
"Then, Rajah Laut," whispered Jaffir, "you can make all safe by giving them back." "Can I do that?" were the words breathed out through Lingard's lips to the faithful follower of Hassim and Immada. "Can you do anything else?" was the whispered retort of Jaffir the messenger accustomed to speak frankly to the great of the earth. "You are a white man and you can have only one word. And now I go."
Outside he had found the unavoidable darkness with its aspect of patient waiting, a cloudy sky holding back the dawn of a London morning. It was difficult to believe. Lingard, who had been looking dangerously fierce, slapped his thigh and showed signs of agitation. "By heavens, I had forgotten all about you!" he pronounced in dismay. Mrs. Travers fixed her eyes on Immada.
He is anxious for these Illanuns to leave the neighbourhood. He thinks that if they loot the schooner they will be off at once. That's all he wants now. Immada has been to see Belarab's women and stopped two nights in the stockade.
Travers the time to wonder how it was that this man had succeeded in penetrating into the very depths of her compassion, he hit the table such a blow that all the heavy muskets seemed to jump a little. Mrs. Travers heard Hassim pronounce a few words earnestly, and a moan of distress from Immada. "I believed in you before you . . . before you gave me your confidence," she began.
The lockouts in the waist, motionless and peering into obscurity, one ear turned to the sea, were aware of that strange resonance like the ghost of a quarrel that seemed to hover at their backs. Wasub, after seeing Hassim and Immada into their canoe, prowled to and fro the whole length of the vessel vigilantly.
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