, I
thought, he could perhaps tell me a lot of things. The log on which he
hung had come out of the mouth of the creek and he couldn't have been
more than half a day on it by my calculation. I had him taken down the
main hatchway and put into a hammock in the 'tween-decks. He only just
breathed then, but some time during the night he came to himself and
got out of the hammock to lie down on a mat. I suppose he was more
comfortable that way. He recovered his speech only this morning and I
went down at once and told you of it, but you took no notice. I told you
also who he was but I don't know whether you heard me or not."

"I don't remember," said Lingard under his breath.

"They are wonderful, those Malays. This morning he was only half alive,
if that much, and now I understand he has been talking to Wasub for an
hour. Will you go down to see him, sir, or shall I send a couple of men
to carry him on deck?"

Lingard looked bewildered for a moment.

"Who on earth is he?" he asked.

"Why, it's that fellow whom you sent out, that night I met you, to catch
our first gig. What do they call him? Jaffir, I think. Hasn't he been
with you ashore, sir? Didn't he find you with the letter I gave him for
you? A most determined looking chap. I knew him again the moment we got
him off the log."

Lingard seized hold of the royal backstay within reach of his hand.
Jaffir! Jaffir! Faithful above all others; the messenger of supreme
moments; the reckless and devoted servant! Lingard felt a crushing sense
of despair. "No, I can't face this," he whispered to himself, looking
at the coast black as ink now before his eyes in the world's shadow that
was slowly encompassing the grey clearness of the Shallow Waters. "Send
Wasub to me. I am going down into the cabin."

He crossed over to the companion, then checking himself suddenly: "Was
there a boat from the yacht during the day?" he asked as if struck by
a sudden thought.--"No, sir," answered Carter. "We had no communication
with the yacht to-day."--"Send Wasub to me," repeated Lingard in a stern
voice as he went down the stairs.

The old serang coming in noiselessly saw his Captain as he had seen him
many times before, sitting under the gilt thunderbolts, apparently as
strong in his body, in his wealth, and in his knowledge of secret words
that have a power over men and elements, as ever. The old Malay squatted
down within a couple of feet from Lingard, leaned his back against
the sa