in consequence of these overtures from Kassim he began to think of stealing the whole country.  Some confounded fellow had apparently accomplished something of the kind—­single-handed at that.  Couldn’t have done it very well though.  Perhaps they could work together—­squeeze everything dry and then go out quietly.  In the course of his negotiations with Kassim he became aware that he was supposed to have a big ship with plenty of men outside.  Kassim begged him earnestly to have this big ship with his many guns and men brought up the river without delay for the Rajah’s service.  Brown professed himself willing, and on this basis the negotiation was carried on with mutual distrust.  Three times in the course of the morning the courteous and active Kassim went down to consult the Rajah and came up busily with his long stride.  Brown, while bargaining, had a sort of grim enjoyment in thinking of his wretched schooner, with nothing but a heap of dirt in her hold, that stood for an armed ship, and a Chinaman and a lame ex-beachcomber of Levuka on board, who represented all his many men.  In the afternoon he obtained further doles of food, a promise of some money, and a supply of mats for his men to make shelters for themselves.  They lay down and snored, protected from the burning sunshine; but Brown, sitting fully exposed on one of the felled trees, feasted his eyes upon the view of the town and the river.  There was much loot there.  Cornelius, who had made himself at home in the camp, talked at his elbow, pointing out the localities, imparting advice, giving his own version of Jim’s character, and commenting in his own fashion upon the events of the last three years.  Brown, who, apparently indifferent and gazing away, listened with attention to every word, could not make out clearly what sort of man this Jim could be.  “What’s his name?  Jim!  Jim!  That’s not enough for a man’s name.”  “They call him,” said Cornelius scornfully, “Tuan Jim here.  As you may say Lord Jim.”  “What is he?  Where does he come from?” inquired Brown.  “What sort of man is he?  Is he an Englishman?” “Yes, yes, he’s an Englishman.  I am an Englishman too.  From Malacca.  He is a fool.  All you have to do is to kill him and then you are king here.  Everything belongs to him,” explained Cornelius.  “It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,” commented Brown half aloud.  “No, no.  The proper way is to kill him the first chance you get, and then you can do what you like,” Cornelius would insist earnestly.  “I have lived for many years here, and I am giving you a friend’s advice.”