possible occupation for a true man of the sea. He
found favour in the eyes of his chief, the fearless Omar el Badavi, the
leader of Brunei rovers, whom he followed with unquestioning loyalty
through the long years of successful depredation. And when that long
career of murder, robbery and violence received its first serious check
at the hands of white men, he stood faithfully by his chief, looked
steadily at the bursting shells, was undismayed by the flames of the
burning stronghold, by the death of his companions, by the shrieks
of their women, the wailing of their children; by the sudden ruin and
destruction of all that he deemed indispensable to a happy and glorious
existence. The beaten ground between the houses was slippery with blood,
and the dark mangroves of the muddy creeks were full of sighs of the
dying men who were stricken down before they could see their enemy. They
died helplessly, for into the tangled forest there was no escape, and
their swift praus, in which they had so often scoured the coast and the
seas, now wedged together in the narrow creek, were burning fiercely.
Babalatchi, with the clear perception of the coming end, devoted all his
energies to saving if it was but only one of them. He succeeded in time.
When the end came in the explosion of the stored powder-barrels, he was
ready to look for his chief. He found him half dead and totally blinded,
with nobody near him but his daughter Aissa:--the sons had fallen
earlier in the day, as became men of their courage. Helped by the girl
with the steadfast heart, Babalatchi carried Omar on board the light
prau and succeeded in escaping, but with very few companions only. As
they hauled their craft into the network of dark and silent creeks, they
could hear the cheering of the crews of the man-of-war's boats dashing
to the attack of the rover's village. Aissa, sitting on the high
after-deck, her father's blackened and bleeding head in her lap, looked
up with fearless eyes at Babalatchi. "They shall find only smoke, blood
and dead men, and women mad with fear there, but nothing else living,"
she said, mournfully. Babalatchi, pressing with his right hand the deep
gash on his shoulder, answered sadly: "They are very strong. When we
fight with them we can only die. Yet," he added, menacingly--"some of us
still live! Some of us still live!"

For a short time he dreamed of vengeance, but his dream was dispelled by
the cold reception of the Sultan of Sulu, wi