ring himself with a slight start Lingard gave the order to
extinguish all the lights in the brig. Now the transfer of the crew from
the yacht had been effected there was every advantage in the darkness.
He gave the order from instinct, it being the right thing to do in the
circumstances. His thoughts were in the cabin of his brig, where there
was a woman waiting. He put his hand over his eyes, collecting himself
as if before a great mental effort. He could hear about him the excited
murmurs of the white men whom in the morning he had so ardently desired
to have safe in his keeping. He had them there now; but accident,
ill-luck, a cursed folly, had tricked him out of the success of his
plan. He would have to go in and talk to Mrs. Travers. The idea dismayed
him. Of necessity he was not one of those men who have the mastery of
expression. To liberate his soul was for him a gigantic undertaking,
a matter of desperate effort, of doubtful success. "I must have it
out with her," he murmured to himself as though at the prospect of
a struggle. He was uncertain of himself, of her; he was uncertain of
everything and everybody; but he was very certain he wanted to look at
her.

At the moment he turned to the door of the cabin both flares went out
together and the black vault of the night upheld above the brig by the
fierce flames fell behind him and buried the deck in sudden darkness.
The buzz of strange voices instantly hummed louder with a startled note.
"Hallo!"--"Can't see a mortal thing"--"Well, what next?"--insisted a
voice--"I want to know what next?"

Lingard checked himself ready to open the door and waited absurdly for
the answer as though in the hope of some suggestion. "What's up with
you? Think yourself lucky," said somebody.--"It's all very well--for
to-night," began the voice.--"What are you fashing yourself for?"
remonstrated the other, reasonably, "we'll get home right enough."--"I
am not so sure; the second mate he says--" "Never mind what he says;
that 'ere man who has got this brig will see us through. The owner's
wife will talk to him--she will. Money can do a lot." The two voices
came nearer, and spoke more distinctly, close behind Lingard. "Suppose
them blooming savages set fire to the yacht. What's to prevent
them?"--"And suppose they do. This 'ere brig's good enough to get away
in. Ain't she? Guns and all. We'll get home yet all right. What do you
say, John?"

"I say nothing and care less," said a third