unded form of his head. Above the
masts of the brig the dome of the clear heaven was full of lights that
flickered, as if some mighty breathings high up there had been swaying
about the flame of the stars. There was no sound along the brig's decks,
and the heavy shadows that lay on it had the aspect, in that silence,
of secret places concealing crouching forms that waited in perfect
stillness for some decisive event. Lingard struck a match to light his
cheroot, and his powerful face with narrowed eyes stood out for a moment
in the night and vanished suddenly. Then two shadowy forms and two red
sparks moved backward and forward on the poop. A larger, but a paler
and oval patch of light from the compass lamps lay on the brasses of
the wheel and on the breast of the Malay standing by the helm. Lingard's
voice, as if unable altogether to master the enormous silence of the
sea, sounded muffled, very calm--without the usual deep ring in it.

"Not much change, Shaw," he said.

"No, sir, not much. I can just see the island--the big one--still in
the same place. It strikes me, sir, that, for calms, this here sea is a
devil of locality."

He cut "locality" in two with an emphatic pause. It was a good word. He
was pleased with himself for thinking of it. He went on again:

"Now--since noon, this big island--"

"Carimata, Shaw," interrupted Lingard.

"Aye, sir; Carimata--I mean. I must say--being a stranger hereabouts--I
haven't got the run of those--"

He was going to say "names" but checked himself and said,
"appellations," instead, sounding every syllable lovingly.

"Having for these last fifteen years," he continued, "sailed regularly
from London in East-Indiamen, I am more at home over there--in the Bay."

He pointed into the night toward the northwest and stared as if he could
see from where he stood that Bay of Bengal where--as he affirmed--he
would be so much more at home.

"You'll soon get used--" muttered Lingard, swinging in his rapid walk
past his mate. Then he turned round, came back, and asked sharply.

"You said there was nothing afloat in sight before dark? Hey?"

"Not that I could see, sir. When I took the deck again at eight, I asked
that serang whether there was anything about; and I understood him to
say there was no more as when I went below at six. This is a lonely sea
at times--ain't it, sir? Now, one would think at this time of the year
the homeward-bounders from China would be pretty thick here