guard-rail. Under their feet the jetty sounded like a drum in the quiet
night. On the shore end the native caretaker of the wharf watched the
combat, squatting behind the safe shelter of some big cases. The next
day he informed his friends, with calm satisfaction, that two drunken
white men had fought on the jetty.

It had been a great fight. They fought without arms, like wild beasts,
after the manner of white men. No! nobody was killed, or there would
have been trouble and a report to make. How could he know why they
fought? White men have no reason when they are like that.

Just as Lingard was beginning to fear that he would be unable to
restrain much longer the violence of the younger man, he felt Willems'
muscles relaxing, and took advantage of this opportunity to pin him, by
a last effort, to the rail. They both panted heavily, speechless, their
faces very close.

"All right," muttered Willems at last. "Don't break my back over this
infernal rail. I will be quiet."

"Now you are reasonable," said Lingard, much relieved. "What made you
fly into that passion?" he asked, leading him back to the end of the
jetty, and, still holding him prudently with one hand, he fumbled with
the other for his whistle and blew a shrill and prolonged blast. Over
the smooth water of the roadstead came in answer a faint cry from one of
the ships at anchor.

"My boat will be here directly," said Lingard. "Think of what you are
going to do. I sail to-night."