‘Three weeks later, having collected a good many cases of old dollars (they were stowed aft in the lazaretto,^* with an iron bar and a padlock securing the hatch under his cabin-table)—yes, with a bigger lot than he had expected to collect, Davidson found himself homeward bound and off the entrance of the creek where Bamtz lived and even, in a sense, flourished.

‘It was so late in the day that Davidson actually hesitated whether he should not pass by this time. He had no regard for Bamtz, who was a degraded but not a really unhappy man. His pity for Laughing Anne was no more than her case deserved. But his goodness was of a particularly delicate sort. He realized how these people were dependent on him, and how they would feel their dependence (if he failed to turn up) through a long month of anxious waiting. Prompted by his sensitive humanity, Davidson, in the gathering dusk, turned the Sissie’s head toward the hardly discernible coast and navigated her safely through a maze of shallow patches. But by the time he got to the mouth of the creek the night had come.

‘The narrow waterway lay like a black cutting through the forest. And as there were always grounded snags in the channel which it would be impossible to make out, Davidson very prudently turned the Sissie round and with only enough steam on the boilers to give her a touch ahead, if necessary, let her drift up with the tide, silent and invisible in the impenetrable darkness and in the dumb stillness.

‘It was a long job and when at the end of two hours Davidson thought he must be up to the clearing, the settlement slept already—the whole land of forests and rivers was asleep.

‘Davidson, seeing a solitary light in the massed darkness of the shade, knew that it was burning in Bamtz’s house. This was unexpected at this time of the night, but convenient as a guide. By a turn of the screw and a touch of the helm Davidson sheered the Sissie alongside Bamtz’s wharf—a miserable structure of a dozen piles and a few planks, of which the ex-vagabond was very proud. A couple of Kalashes^* jumped on it, took a turn with the ropes thrown to them round two posts, and the Sissie came to rest without a single loud word or the slightest noise. And just in time, too, for the tide turned even before she was properly moored.

‘Davidson stepped carefully over the shaky planks, not being anxious to get a sprained ankle, and picked his way across the waste ground to the foot of the house ladder. The house was but a glorified hut on piles, unfenced and lonely.

‘Like many a stout man he is very light-footed. He walked up the seven steps or so, stepped across the bamboo platform quietly, but what he saw through the doorway stopped him short.

‘Four men were sitting by the light of a solitary candle. There was a bottle, a jug and glasses on the table, but they were not engaged in drinking. Two packs of cards were lying there, too, but they were not preparing to play. They were talking together in whispers, and remained quite unaware of him. He himself was too astonished to make a sound for some time. The world was still, except for the sibilation of the whispers from these four heads bunched together over the table.

“‘And Davidson, as I have quoted him to you before, didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.”

‘The situation ended with a scream proceeding from the distant, dark part of the room. “Oh, Davy! You’ve given me a turn.”

‘Davidson made out beyond the table Anne’s very pale face. She laughed, a little hysterically, out of the deep shadows between the dark mat walls. “Ha! Ha! Ha!”

‘The four heads sprang apart at the first sound and four pairs of eyes became fixed stonily on Davidson. The woman came forward having little more on than a loose chintz wrapper and straw slippers on her bare feet. Her head was tied up Malay fashion in a red handkerchief, with a mass of loose hair hanging under it behind. Her professional, gay, European feathers had literally dropped from her in the course of