"Do you hear anything now?"

"No. They stopped now. Perhaps lost the ship--who knows? Perhaps
afraid--"

"Well!" muttered Lingard, moving his feet uneasily. "I believe you lie.
What kind of boat?"

"White men's boat. A four-men boat, I think. Small. Tuan, I hear him
now! There!"

He stretched his arm straight out, pointing abeam for a time, then his
arm fell slowly.

"Coming this way," he added with decision.

From forward Shaw called out in a startled tone:

"Something on the water, sir! Broad on this bow!"

"All right!" called back Lingard.

A lump of blacker darkness floated into his view. From it came over the
water English words--deliberate, reaching him one by one; as if each had
made its own difficult way through the profound stillness of the night.

"What--ship--is--that--pray?"

"English brig," answered Lingard, after a short moment of hesitation.