ry surrender of the prisoners.
That move had been suggested to him, exactly as Mrs. Travers had told
her husband, by the rivalries of the parties and the state of public
opinion in the Settlement deprived of the presence of the man who,
theoretically at least, was the greatest power and the visible ruler
of the Shore of Refuge. Belarab still lingered at his father's tomb.
Whether that man of the embittered and pacific heart had withdrawn there
to meditate upon the unruliness of mankind and the thankless nature of
his task; or whether he had gone there simply to bathe in a particularly
clear pool which was a feature of the place, give himself up to the
enjoyment of a certain fruit which grew in profusion there and indulge
for a time in a scrupulous performance of religious exercises, his
absence from the Settlement was a fact of the utmost gravity. It is true
that the prestige of a long-unquestioned rulership and the long-settled
mental habits of the people had caused the captives to be taken straight
to Belarab's stockade as a matter of course. Belarab, at a distance,
could still outweigh the power on the spot of Tengga, whose secret
purposes were no better known, who was jovial, talkative, outspoken and
pugnacious; but who was not a professed servant of God famed for many
charities and a scrupulous performance of pious practices, and who also
had no father who had achieved a local saintship. But Belarab, with
his glamour of asceticism and melancholy together with a reputation for
severity (for a man so pious would be naturally ruthless), was not on
the spot. The only favourable point in his absence was the fact that
he had taken with him his latest wife, the same lady whom Jorgenson had
mentioned in his letter to Lingard as anxious to bring about battle,
murder, and the looting of the yacht, not because of inborn wickedness
of heart but from a simple desire for silks, jewels and other objects
of personal adornment, quite natural in a girl so young and elevated to
such a high position. Belarab had selected her to be the companion of
his retirement and Lingard was glad of it. He was not afraid of her
influence over Belarab. He knew his man. No words, no blandishments, no
sulks, scoldings, or whisperings of a favourite could affect either the
resolves or the irresolutions of that Arab whose action ever seemed
to hang in mystic suspense between the contradictory speculations and
judgments disputing the possession of his will