"What?"

"Has the Sahib forgotten; or do we black men only see the Gods?"

"There was a fever upon me." Findlayson was still looking uneasily
across the water. "It seemed that the island was full of beasts
and men talking, but I do not remember. A boat could live in this
water now, I think."

"Oho! Then it is true. 'When Brahm ceases to dream, the Gods die.'
Now I know, indeed, what he meant. Once, too, the guru said as much
to me; but then I did not understand. Now I am wise."

"What?" said Findlayson, over his shoulder.

Peroo went on as if he were talking to himself. " Six-seven-ten
monsoons since, I was watch on the fo'c'sle of the ehwah - the
Kumpani's big boat-and there was a big tufan; green and black water
beating, and I held fast to the life-lines, choking under the waters.
Then I thought of the Gods - of Those whom we saw tonight" - he
stared curiously at Findlayson's back, but the white man was looking
across the flood. "Yes, I say of Those whom we saw this night past,
and I called upon Them to protect me. And while I prayed, still
keeping my lookout, a big wave came and threw me forward upon the
ring of the great black bowanchor, and the Rewah rose high and high,
leaning towards the lefthand side, and the water drew away from
beneath her nose, and I lay upon my belly, holding the ring, and
looking down into those great deeps. Then I thought, even in the
face of death: If I lose hold I die, and for me neither the Rewah nor
my place by the galley where the rice is cooked, nor Bombay, nor