he Shallows. They stood for a moment
on the platform looking down on the deck as if about to step into the
unknown, then descended and walking aft entered the half-light under the
awning shading the luxurious surroundings, the complicated emotions of
the, to them, inconceivable existences.

Lingard without waiting a moment cried:

"What news, O Rajah?"

Hassim's eyes made the round of the schooner's decks. He had left his
gun in the boat and advanced empty handed, with a tranquil assurance as
if bearing a welcome offering in the faint smile of his lips. Immada,
half hidden behind his shoulder, followed lightly, her elbows pressed
close to her side. The thick fringe of her eyelashes was dropped like
a veil; she looked youthful and brooding; she had an aspect of shy
resolution.

They stopped within arm's length of the whites, and for some time nobody
said a word. Then Hassim gave Lingard a significant glance, and uttered
rapidly with a slight toss of the head that indicated in a manner the
whole of the yacht:

"I see no guns!"

"N--no!" said Lingard, looking suddenly confused. It had occurred to him
that for the first time in two years or more he had forgotten, utterly
forgotten, these people's existence.

Immada stood slight and rigid with downcast eyes. Hassim, at his ease,
scrutinized the faces, as if searching for elusive points of similitude
or for subtle shades of difference.

"What is this new intrusion?" asked Mr. Travers, angrily.

"These are the fisher-folk, sir," broke in the sailing-master, "we've
observed these three days past flitting about in a canoe; but they
never had the sense to answer our hail; and yet a bit of fish for
your breakfast--" He smiled obsequiously, and all at once, without
provocation, began to bellow:

"Hey! Johnnie! Hab got fish? Fish! One peecee fish! Eh? Savee? Fish!
Fish--" He gave it up suddenly to say in a deferential tone--"Can't
make them savages understand anything, sir," and withdrew as if after a
clever feat.

Hassim looked at Lingard.

"Why did the little white man make that outcry?" he asked, anxiously.

"Their desire is to eat fish," said Lingard in an enraged tone.

Then before the air of extreme surprise which incontinently appeared on
the other's face, he could not restrain a short and hopeless laugh.

"Eat fish," repeated Hassim, staring. "O you white people! O you white
people! Eat fish! Good! But why make that noise? And why did you send
them here w