lockers on the bridge, shivered visibly. The forests above and below and
on the opposite bank looked black and dank; wet dripped from the rigging
upon the tightly stretched deck awnings, and it was in the middle of a
shuddering yawn that I caught sight of Almayer. He was moving across a
patch of burnt grass, a blurred shadowy shape with the blurred bulk of
a house behind him, a low house of mats, bamboos and palm-leaves with a
high-pitched roof of grass.

He stepped upon the jetty. He was clad simply in flapping pyjamas of
cretonne pattern (enormous flowers with yellow petals on a disagreeable
blue ground) and a thin cotton singlet with short sleeves. His arms,
bare to the elbow, were crossed on his chest. His black hair looked
as if it had not been cut for a very long time and a curly wisp of it
strayed across his forehead. I had heard of him at Singapore; I had
heard of him on board; I had heard of him early in the morning and late
at night; I had heard of him at tiffin and at dinner; I had heard of
him in a place called Pulo Laut from a half-caste gentleman there, who
described himself as the manager of a coal-mine; which sounded civilised
and progressive till you heard that the mine could not be worked at
present because it was haunted by some particularly atrocious ghosts. I
had heard of him in a place called Dongola, in the Island of Celebes,
when the Rajah of that little-known seaport (you can get no anchorage
there in less than fifteen fathom, which is extremely inconvenient) came
on board in a friendly way with only two attendants, and drank bottle
after bottle of soda-water on the after-skylight with my good friend and
commander, Captain C--. At least I heard his name distinctly pronounced
several times in a lot of talk in Malay language. Oh yes, I heard it
quite distinctly--Almayer, Almayer--and saw Captain C-- smile while the
fat dingy Rajah laughed audibly. To hear a Malay Rajah laugh outright
is a rare experience I can assure you. And I overhead more of Almayer's