left the harbour of Batavia, taking away the young couple into the
unknown Borneo, she did not carry on her deck so much love and happiness
as old Lingard was wont to boast of before his casual friends in the
verandahs of various hotels. The old seaman himself was perfectly happy.
Now he had done his duty by the girl. "You know I made her an orphan,"
he often concluded solemnly, when talking about his own affairs to a
scratch audience of shore loafers--as it was his habit to do. And the
approbative shouts of his half-intoxicated auditors filled his simple
soul with delight and pride. "I carry everything right through," was
another of his sayings, and in pursuance of that principle he pushed the
building of house and godowns on the Pantai River with feverish haste.
The house for the young couple; the godowns for the big trade Almayer was
going to develop while he (Lingard) would be able to give himself up to
some mysterious work which was only spoken of in hints, but was
understood to relate to gold and diamonds in the interior of the island.
Almayer was impatient too. Had he known what was before him he might not
have been so eager and full of hope as he stood watching the last canoe
of the Lingard expedition disappear in the bend up the river. When,
turning round, he beheld the pretty little house, the big godowns built
neatly by an army of Chinese carpenters, the new jetty round which were
clustered the trading canoes, he felt a sudden elation in the thought
that the world was his.

But the world had to be conquered first, and its conquest was not so easy
as he thought. He was very soon made to understand that he was not
wanted in that corner of it where old Lingard and his own weak will
placed him, in the midst of unscrupulous intrigues and of a fierce trade
competition. The Arabs had found out the river, had established a
trading post in Sambir, and where they traded they would be masters and
suffer no rival. Lingard returned unsuccessful from his first