"Dead calm, sir," said Shaw to Lingard. "Dead calm again. We got into
this funny place in the nick of time, sir."

They stood for a while side by side, looking round upon the coast and
the sea. The brig had been brought up in the middle of a broad belt of
clear water. To the north rocky ledges showed in black and white lines
upon the slight swell setting in from there. A small island stood out
from the broken water like the square tower of some submerged building.
It was about two miles distant from the brig. To the eastward the coast
was low; a coast of green forests fringed with dark mangroves. There was
in its sombre dullness a clearly defined opening, as if a small piece
had been cut out with a sharp knife. The water in it shone like a patch
of polished silver. Lingard pointed it out to Shaw.

"This is the entrance to the place where we are going," he said.

Shaw stared, round-eyed.

"I thought you came here on account of this here yacht," he stammered,
surprised.

"Ah. The yacht," said Lingard, musingly, keeping his eyes on the break
in the coast. "The yacht--" He stamped his foot suddenly. "I would give
all I am worth and throw in a few days of life into the bargain if I
could get her off and away before to-night."

He calmed down, and again stood gazing at the land. A little within the
entrance from behind the wall of forests an invisible fire belched out
steadily the black and heavy convolutions of thick smoke, which stood
out high, like a twisted and shivering pillar against the clear blue of