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help from men, after having been cast out, like a pre-
sumptuous Titan, from his heaven. Mr. Van Wyk, ar-

rested, seemed to count the footsteps right out of ear-
shot. He walked between the tables, tapping smartly

with his heels, took up a paper-knife, dropped it after
a vague glance along the blade; then happening upon

the piano, struck a few chords again and again, vigor-
ously, standing up before the keyboard with an atten-

tive poise of the head like a piano-tuner; closing it, he
pivoted on his heels brusquely, avoided the little terrier

sleeping trustfully on crossed forepaws, came upon the
stairs next, and, as though he had lost his balance on

the top step, ran down headlong out of the house. His
servants, beginning to clear the table, heard him mutter

to himself (evil words no doubt) down there, and then
after a pause go away with a strolling gait in the direc-

tion of the wharf.
The bulwarks of the Sofala lying alongside the bank

made a low, black wall on the undulating contour of the
shore. Two masts and a funnel uprose from behind it

with a great rake, as if about to fall: a solid, square
elevation in the middle bore the ghostly shapes of white

boats, the curves of davits, lines of rail and stanchions,
all confused and mingling darkly everywhere; but low

down, amidships, a single lighted port stared out on
the night, perfectly round, like a small, full moon,

whose yellow beam caught a patch of wet mud, the
edge of trodden grass, two turns of heavy cable

wound round the foot of a thick wooden post in the
ground.

Mr. Van Wyk, peering alongside, heard a muzzy
boastful voice apparently jeering at a person called

Prendergast. It mouthed abuse thickly, choked; then
pronounced very distinctly the word "Murphy," and

chuckled. Glass tinkled tremulously. All these sounds
came from the lighted port. Mr. Van Wyk hesitated,

stooped; it was impossible to look through unless he
went down into the mud.

"Sterne," he said, half aloud.
The drunken voice within said gladly--

"Sterne--of course. Look at him blink. Look at
him! Sterne, Whalley, Massy. Massy, Whalley,

Sterne. But Massy's the best. You can't come over
him. He would just love to see you starve."

Mr. Van Wyk moved away, made out farther forward
a shadowy head stuck out from under the awnings as

if on the watch, and spoke quietly in Malay, "Is the
mate asleep?"

"No. Here, at your service."
In a moment Sterne appeared, walking as noiselessly

as a cat on the wharf.
"It's so jolly dark, and I had no idea you would be

down to-night."
"What's this horrible raving?" asked Mr. Van Wyk,

as if to explain the cause of a shudder than ran over
him audibly.

"Jack's broken out on a drunk. That's our second.
It's his way. He will be right enough by to-morrow

afternoon, only Mr. Massy will keep on worrying up
and down the deck. We had better get away."

He muttered suggestively of a talk "up at the house."
He had long desired to effect an entrance there, but Mr.

Van Wyk nonchalantly demurred: it would not, he
feared, be quite prudent, perhaps; and the opaque

black shadow under one of the two big trees left at the
landing-place swallowed them up, impenetrably dense,

by the side of the wide river, that seemed to spin into
threads of glitter the light of a few big stars dropped

here and there upon its outspread and flowing stillness.
"The situation is grave beyond doubt," Mr. Van Wyk

said. Ghost-like in their white clothes they could not
distinguish each others' features, and their feet made

no sound on the soft earth. A sort of purring was
heard. Mr. Sterne felt gratified by such a beginning.

"I thought, Mr. Van Wyk, a gentleman of your sort
would see at once how awkwardly I was situated."

"Yes, very. Obviously his health is bad. Perhaps
he's breaking up. I see, and he himself is well aware--

I assume I am speaking to a man of sense--he is well
aware that his legs are giving out."

"His legs--ah!" Mr. Sterne was disconcerted, and
then turned sulky. "You may call it his legs if you

like; what I want to know is whether he intends to clear
out quietly. That's a good one, too! His legs!

Pooh!"
"Why, yes. Only look at the way he walks." Mr.

Van Wyk took him up in a perfectly cool and undoubt-
ing tone. "The question, however, is whether your

sense of duty does not carry you too far from your true
interest. After all, I too could do something to serve

you. You know who I am."
"Everybody along the Straits has heard of you, sir."

Mr. Van Wyk presumed that this meant something
favorable. Sterne had a soft laugh at this pleasantry.

He should think so! To the opening statement, that
the partnershipagreement was to expire at the end of

this very trip, he gave an attentiveassent. He was
aware. One heard of nothing else on board all the

blessed day long. As to Massy, it was no secret that he
was in a jolly deep hole with these worn-out boilers.

He would have to borrow somewhere a couple of hun-
dred first of all to pay off the captain; and then he

would have to raise money on mortgage upon the ship
for the new boilers--that is, if he could find a lender at

all. At best it meant loss of time, a break in the trade,
short earnings for the year--and there was always the

danger of having his connection filched away from him
by the Germans. It was whispered about that he had

already tried two firms. Neither would have anything
to do with him. Ship too old, and the man too well

known in the place. . . . Mr. Sterne's final rapid wink-
ing remained buried in the deep darkness sibilating with

his whispers.
"Supposing, then, he got the loan," Mr. Van Wyk

resumed in a deliberate undertone, "on your own show-
ing he's more than likely to get a mortgagee's man

thrust upon him as captain. For my part, I know that
I would make that very stipulation myself if I had to

find the money. And as a matter of fact I am thinking
of doing so. It would be worth my while in many ways.

Do you see how this would bear on the case under dis-
cussion?"

"Thank you, sir. I am sure you couldn't get any-
body that would care more for your interests."

"Well, it suits my interest that Captain Whalley
should finish his time. I shall probably take a passage

with you down the Straits. If that can be done, I'll be
on the spot when all these changes take place, and in a

position to look after YOUR interests."
"Mr. Van Wyk, I want nothing better. I am sure

I am infinitely . . ."
"I take it, then, that this may be done without any

trouble."
"Well, sir, what risk there is can't be helped; but

(speaking to you as my employer now) the thing is
more safe than it looks. If anybody had told me of it

I wouldn't have believed it, but I have been looking on
myself. That old Serang has been trained up to the

game. There's nothing the matter with his--his--
limbs, sir. He's got used to doing things himself in a

remarkable way. And let me tell you, sir, that Cap-
tain Whalley, poor man, is by no means useless. Fact.

Let me explain to you, sir. He stiffens up that old
monkey of a Malay, who knows well enough what to do.

Why, he must have kept captain's watches in all sorts of
country ships off and on for the last five-and-twenty

years. These natives, sir, as long as they have a white
man close at the back, will go on doing the right thing

most surprisingly well--even if left quite to themselves.
Only the white man must be of the sort to put starch

into them, and the captain is just the one for that.
Why, sir, he has drilled him so well that now he needs

hardly speak at all. I have seen that little wrinkled
ape made to take the ship out of Pangu Bay on a

blowy morning and on all through the islands; take
her out first-rate, sir, dodging under the old man's

elbow, and in such quiet style that you could not have
told for the life of you which of the two was doing the

work up there. That's where our poor friend would be
still of use to the ship even if--if--he could no longer

lift a foot, sir. Provided the Serang does not know
that there's anything wrong."

"He doesn't."
"Naturally not. Quite beyond his apprehension.

They aren't capable of finding out anything about us,
sir."

"You seem to be a shrewd man," said Mr. Van Wyk
in a choked mutter, as though he were feeling sick.

"You'll find me a good enough servant, sir."
Mr. Sterne hoped now for a handshake at least, but

unexpectedly, with a "What's this? Better not to be
seen together," Mr. Van Wyk's white shape wavered,

and instantly seemed to melt away in the black air under
the roof of boughs. The mate was startled. Yes.

There was that faint thumping clatter.
He stole out silently from under the shade. The

lighted port-hole shone from afar. His head swam with
the intoxication of sudden success. What a thing it

was to have a gentleman to deal with! He crept aboard,
and there was something weird in the shadowy stretch

of empty decks, echoing with shouts and blows proceed-
ing from a darker part amidships. Mr. Massy was

raging before the door of the berth: the drunken voice
within flowed on undisturbed in the violentracket of

kicks.
"Shut up! Put your light out and turn in, you

confounded swilling pig--you! D'you hear me, you
beast?"

The kicking stopped, and in the pause the muzzy
oracular voice announced from within--

"Ah! Massy, now--that's another thing. Massy's
deep."

"Who's that aft there? You, Sterne? He'll drink
himself into a fit of horrors." The chief engineer ap-

peared vague and big at the corner of the engine-
room.

"He will be good enough for duty to-morrow. I would
let him be, Mr. Massy."

Sterne slipped away into his berth, and at once had
to sit down. His head swam with exultation. He got

into his bunk as if in a dream. A feeling of profound


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