id. "It was wonderful that we were not drowned
a hundred times."

"That was the least of the wonder, for no man dies before his time.
I have seen Sydney, I have seen London, and twenty great ports,
but,"--Peroo looked at the damp, discoloured shrine under the
peepul--"never man has seen that we saw here."

"What?"

"Has the Sahib forgotten; or do we black men only see the Gods?"

"There was a fever upon me." Findlayson was still looking uneasily
across the water. "It seemed that the island was full of beasts and men
talking, but I do not remember. A boat could live in this water now, I
think."

"Oho! Then it is true. 'When Brahm ceases to dream, the Gods die.' Now I
know, indeed, what he meant. Once, too, the guru said as much to me; but
then I did not understand. Now I am wise."

"What?" said Findlayson, over his shoulder.

Peroo went on as if he were talking to himself "Six--seven--ten monsoons
since, I was watch on the fo'c'sle of the Rewah--the Kumpani's big
boat--and there was a big tufan; green and black water beating, and I
held fast to the life-lines, choking under the waters. Then I thought
of the Gods--of Those whom we saw to-night,"--he stared curiously at
Findlayson's back, but the white man was looking across the flood. "Yes,
I say of Those whom we saw this night past, and I called upon Them to
protect me. And while I prayed, still keeping my lookout, a big wave
came and threw me forward upon the ring of the great black bow-anchor,
and the Rewah rose high and high, leaning towards the left-hand side,
and the water drew away from beneath her nose, and I lay upon my belly,
holding the ring, and looking down into those great deeps. Then I
thought, even in the face of death: If I lose hold I die, and for me
neither the Rewah nor my place by the galley where the rice is cooked,
nor Bombay, nor Calcutta, nor even London, will be any more for me. 'How
shall I be sure,' I said, 'that the Gods to whom I pray will abide at
all?' This I thought, and the Rewah dropped her nose as a hammer falls,
and all the sea came in and slid me backwards along the fo'c'sle and
over the break of the fo'c'sle, and I very badly bruised my shin against
the donkey-engine: but I did not die, and I have seen the Gods. They are
good for live men, but for the dead. . . . They have spoken Themselves.
Therefore, when I come to the village I will beat the guru for talking
riddles which are no riddles. When Brahm ceases to dream the Gods