rld--I have no friend," said Willems.

"Whose fault?" said Lingard, sharply.

Their voices, after the deep and tremendous noise, sounded to them very
unsatisfactory--thin and frail, like the voices of pigmies--and they
became suddenly silent, as if on that account. From up the courtyard
Lingard's boatmen came down and passed them, keeping step in a single
file, their paddles on shoulder, and holding their heads straight with
their eyes fixed on the river. Ali, who was walking last, stopped before
Lingard, very stiff and upright. He said--

"That one-eyed Babalatchi is gone, with all his women. He took
everything. All the pots and boxes. Big. Heavy. Three boxes."

He grinned as if the thing had been amusing, then added with an
appearance of anxious concern, "Rain coming."

"We return," said Lingard. "Make ready."

"Aye, aye, sir!" ejaculated Ali with precision, and moved on. He had
been quartermaster with Lingard before making up his mind to stay in
Sambir as Almayer's head man. He strutted towards the landing-place
thinking proudly that he was not like those other ignorant boatmen, and
knew how to answer properly the very greatest of white captains.

"You have misunderstood me from the first, Captain Lingard," said
Willems.

"Have I? It's all right, as long as there is no mistake about my
meaning," answered Lingard, strolling slowly to the landing-place.
Willems followed him, and Aissa followed Willems.

Two hands were extended to help Lingard in embarking. He stepped
cautiously and heavily into the long and narrow canoe, and sat in the
canvas folding-chair that had been placed in the middle. He leaned back
and turned his head to the two figures that stood on the bank a
little above him. Aissa's eyes were fastened on his face in a visible
impatience to see him gone. Willems' look went straight above the canoe,
straight at the forest on the other side of the river.

"All right, Ali," said Lingard, in a low voice.

A slight stir animated the faces, and a faint murmur ran along the
line of paddlers. The foremost man pushed with the point of his paddle,
canted the fore end out of the dead water into the current; and the
canoe fell rapidly off before the rush of brown water, the stern rubbing
gently against the low bank.

"We shall meet again, Captain Lingard!" cried Willems, in an unsteady
voice.

"Never!" said Lingard, turning half round in his chair to look at
Willems. His fierce red eyes glittered remorse