upon the clouds, enabled them to make straight for the vessel across the banks.  Before they had gone half way these flames went out and the darkness seemed denser than any he had known before.  But it was no greater than the darkness of his mind—­he added.  He had looked upon the white men sitting unmoved and silent under the edge of swords; he had looked at Daman, he had heard bitter words spoken; he was looking now at his white friend—­and the issue of events he could not see.  One can see men’s faces but their fate, which is written on their foreheads, one cannot see.  He had no more to say, and what he had spoken was true in every word.

IV

Lingard repeated it all to Mrs. Travers.  Her courage, her intelligence, the quickness of her apprehension, the colour of her eyes and the intrepidity of her glance evoked in him an admiring enthusiasm.  She stood by his side!  Every moment that fatal illusion clung closer to his soul—­like a garment of light—­like an armour of fire.

He was unwilling to face the facts.  All his life—­till that day—­had been a wrestle with events in the daylight of this world, but now he could not bring his mind to the consideration of his position.  It was Mrs. Travers who, after waiting awhile, forced on him the pain of thought by wanting to know what bearing Hassim’s news had upon the situation.

Lingard had not the slightest doubt Daman wanted him to know what had been done with the prisoners.  That is why Daman had welcomed Hassim, and let him hear the decision and had allowed him to leave the camp on the sandbank.  There could be only one object in this; to let him, Lingard, know that the prisoners had been put out of his reach as long as he remained in his brig.  Now this brig was his strength.  To make him leave his brig was like removing his hand from his sword.

“Do you understand what I mean, Mrs. Travers?” he asked.  “They are afraid of me because I know how to fight this brig.  They fear the brig because when I am on board her, the brig and I are one.  An armed man—­don’t you see?  Without the brig I am disarmed, without me she can’t strike.  So Daman thinks.  He does not know everything but he is not far off the truth.  He says to himself that if I man the boats to go after these whites into the lagoon then his Illanuns will get the yacht for sure—­and perhaps the brig as well.  If I stop here with my brig he holds the two white men and can talk as big as he pleases.  Belarab believes in me no doubt, but Daman trusts no man on earth.  He simply does not know how to trust any one, because he is always plotting himself.  He came to help me and as soon as he found I was not there he began to plot with Tengga.  Now he has made a move—­a clever move; a cleverer move than he thinks.  Why?  I’ll tell you why.  Because I, Tom Lingard, haven’t a single white man aboard this brig I can trust.  Not one.  I only just discovered my mate’s got the notion I am some kind of pirate.  And all your yacht people think the same.  It is as though you had brought a curse on me in your yacht.  Nobody believes me.  Good God!  What have I come to!  Even those two—­look at them—­I say look at them!  By all the stars they doubt me!  Me! . . .”