by, and the whole of my crew just missed going heels over head into
that beastly hole. Jurumudi Itam, our best quartermaster, deft at fine
needlework, he who mended the ship's flags and sewed buttons on our
coats, was disabled by a kick on the shoulder.

Both remorse and gratitude seemed foreign to Almayer's character. He
mumbled:

"Do you mean that pirate fellow?"

"What pirate fellow? The man has been in the ship eleven years," I said
indignantly.

"It's his looks," Almayer muttered for all apology.

The sun had eaten up the fog. From where we sat under the after awning
we could see in the distance the pony tied up in front of Almayer's
house, to a post of the verandah. We were silent for a long time. All at
once Almayer, alluding evidently to the subject of his conversation in
the captain's cabin, exclaimed anxiously across the table:

"I really don't know what I can do now!"

Captain C-- only raised his eyebrows at him, and got up from his chair.
We dispersed to our duties, but Almayer, half dressed as he was in
his cretonne pyjamas and the thin cotton singlet, remained on board,
lingering near the gangway as though he could not make up his mind
whether to go home or stay with us for good. Our Chinamen boys gave
him side glances as they went to and fro; and Ah Sing, our young chief
steward, the handsomest and most sympathetic of Chinamen, catching my