ed his opportunity. The fog began to blow away and
presently everything was disclosed to the sight. Jorgenson was on his
feet, he was holding a lighted cigar between his fingers. Tengga was
sitting in front of him on one of the chairs the white people had used.
His followers were pressing round him, with Daman and Sentot, who were
muttering incantations; and even the Pangerans had moved closer to the
hatchway. Jaffir's opportunity had come but he lingered by the side
of his Rajah. In the clear air the sun shone with great force. Tuan
Jorgenson looked once more toward Belarab's stockade, O Rajah Laut! But
there was nothing there, not even a flag displayed that had not been
there before. Jaffir looked that way, too, and as he turned his head he
saw Tuan Jorgenson, in the midst of twenty spear-blades that could in an
instant have been driven into his breast, put the cigar in his mouth and
jump down the hatchway. At that moment Rajah Hassim gave Jaffir a push
toward the side and Jaffir leaped overboard.

"He was still in the water when all the world was darkened round him as
if the life of the sun had been blown out of it in a crash. A great wave
came along and washed him on shore, while pieces of wood, iron, and the
limbs of torn men were splashing round him in the water. He managed to
crawl out of the mud. Something had hit him while he was swimming and he
thought he would die. But life stirred in him. He had a message for you.
For a long time he went on crawling under the big trees on his hands
and knees, for there is no rest for a messenger till the message is
delivered. At last he found himself on the left bank of the creek.
And still he felt life stir in him. So he started to swim across, for if
you were in this world you were on the other side. While he swam he felt
his strength abandoning him. He managed to scramble on to a drifting log
and lay on it like one who is dead, till we pulled him into one of our
boats."

Wasub ceased. It seemed to Lingard that it was impossible for mortal
man to suffer more than he suffered in the succeeding moment of silence
crowded by the mute images as of universal destruction. He felt
himself gone to pieces as though the violent expression of Jorgenson's
intolerable mistrust of the life of men had shattered his soul, leaving
his body robbed of all power of resistance and of all fortitude, a prey
forever to infinite remorse and endless regrets.

"Leave me, Wasub," he said. "They are