in his cretonne pajamas 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 chief steward, the handsomest and most sympathetic of
Chinamen, catching my eye, nodded knowingly at his burly back. In the
course of the morning I approached him for a moment.

"Well, Mr. Almayer," I addressed him, easily, "you haven't started on
your letters yet."

We had brought him his mail, and he had held the bundle in his hand ever
since we got up from breakfast. He glanced at it when I spoke, and for
a moment it looked as if he were on the point of opening his fingers and
letting the whole lot fall overboard. I believe he was tempted to do so.
I shall never forget that man afraid of his letters.

"Have you been long out from Europe?" he asked me.

"Not very. Not quite eight months," I told him. "I left a ship in
Samarang with a hurt back, and have been in the hospital in Singapore
some weeks."

He sighed.

"Trade is very bad here."

"Indeed!"