e was nobody else."

Sahamin got up, staff in hand, and spoke to Abdulla with ponderous
courtesy, emphasizing his words by the solemn flourishes of his right
arm.

"It is so. We are weary of paying our debts to that white man here,
who is the son of the Rajah Laut. That white man--may the grave of his
mother be defiled!--is not content to hold us all in his hand with a
cruel grasp. He seeks to cause our very death. He trades with the Dyaks
of the forest, who are no better than monkeys. He buys from them guttah
and rattans--while we starve. Only two days ago I went to him and
said, 'Tuan Almayer'--even so; we must speak politely to that friend of
Satan--'Tuan Almayer, I have such and such goods to sell. Will you buy?'
And he spoke thus--because those white men have no understanding of any
courtesy--he spoke to me as if I was a slave: 'Daoud, you are a lucky
man'--remark, O First amongst the Believers! that by those words he
could have brought misfortune on my head--'you are a lucky man to have
anything in these hard times. Bring your goods quickly, and I shall
receive them in payment of what you owe me from last year.' And he
laughed, and struck me on the shoulder with his open hand. May Jehannum
be his lot!"

"We will fight him," said young Bahassoen, crisply. "We shall fight if
there is help and a leader. Tuan Abdulla, will you come among us?"

Abdulla did not answer at once. His lips moved in an inaudible whisper
and the beads passed through his fingers with a dry click. All waited in
respectful silence. "I shall come if my ship can enter this river," said
Abdulla at last, in a solemn tone.

"It can, Tuan," exclaimed Babalatchi. "There is a white man here
who . . ."

"I want to see Omar el Badavi and that white man you wrote about,"
interrupted Abdulla.

Babalatchi got on his feet quickly, and there was a general move.

The women on the verandah hurried indoors, and from the crowd that had
kept discreetly in distant parts of the courtyard a couple of men ran
with armfuls of dry fuel, which they cast upon the fire. One of them, at
a sign from Babalatchi, approached and, after getting his orders, went
towards the little gate and entered Omar's enclosure. While waiting
for his return, Lakamba, Abdulla, and Babalatchi talked together in low
tones. Sahamin sat by himself chewing betel-nut sleepily with a slight
and indolent motion of his heavy jaw. Bahassoen, his hand on the hilt
of his short sword, strutted back