Part 54 (1/2)

Lingard was pa.s.sing then close to the prisoners' house. There was a group of armed men below the verandah and above their heads he saw Mrs.

Travers by the side of d'Alcacer. The fire by which Lingard had spent the night was extinguished, its embers scattered, and the bench itself lay overturned. Mrs. Travers must have run up on the verandah at the first alarm. She and d'Alcacer up there seemed to dominate the tumult which was now subsiding. Lingard noticed the scarf across Mrs. Travers'

face. D'Alcacer was bareheaded. He shouted again:

”What's the matter?”

”I am going to see,” shouted Lingard back.

He resisted the impulse to join those two, dominate the tumult, let it roll away from under his feet--the mere life of men, vain like a dream and interfering with the tremendous sense of his own existence.

He resisted it, he could hardly have told why. Even the sense of self-preservation had abandoned him. There was a throng of people pressing close about him yet careful not to get in his way. Surprise, concern, doubt were depicted on all those faces; but there were some who observed that the great white man making his way to the lagoon side of the stockade wore a fixed smile. He asked at large:

”Can one see any distance over the water?”

One of Belarab's headmen who was nearest to him answered:

”The mist has thickened. If you see anything, Tuan, it will be but a shadow of things.”

The four sides of the stockade had been manned by that time. Lingard, ascending the banquette, looked out and saw the lagoon shrouded in white, without as much as a shadow on it, and so still that not even the sound of water lapping the sh.o.r.e reached his ears. He found himself in profound accord with this blind and soundless peace.

”Has anything at all been seen?” he asked incredulously.

Four men were produced at once who had seen a dark ma.s.s of boats moving in the light of the dawn. Others were sent for. He hardly listened to them. His thought escaped him and he stood motionless, looking out into the unstirring mist pervaded by the perfect silence. Presently Belarab joined him, escorted by three grave, swarthy men, himself dark-faced, stroking his short grey beard with impenetrable composure. He said to Lingard, ”Your white man doesn't fight,” to which Lingard answered, ”There is nothing to fight against. What your people have seen, Belarab, were indeed but shadows on the water.” Belarab murmured, ”You ought to have allowed me to make friends with Daman last night.”

A faint uneasiness was stealing into Lingard's breast.

A moment later d'Alcacer came up, inconspicuously watched over by two men with lances, and to his anxious inquiry Lingard said: ”I don't think there is anything going on. Listen how still everything is. The only way of bringing the matter to a test would be to persuade Belarab to let his men march out and make an attack on Tengga's stronghold this moment.

Then we would learn something. But I couldn't persuade Belarab to march out into this fog. Indeed, an expedition like this might end badly. I myself don't believe that all Tengga's people are on the lagoon. . . .

Where is Mrs. Travers?”

The question made d'Alcacer start by its abruptness which revealed the woman's possession of that man's mind. ”She is with Don Martin, who is better but feels very weak. If we are to be given up, he will have to be carried out to his fate. I can depict to myself the scene. Don Martin carried shoulder high surrounded by those barbarians with spears, and Mrs. Travers with myself walking on each side of the stretcher. Mrs.

Travers has declared to me her intention to go out with us.”

”Oh, she has declared her intention,” murmured Lingard, absent-mindedly.

D'Alcacer felt himself completely abandoned by that man. And within two paces of him he noticed the group of Belarab and his three swarthy attendants in their white robes, preserving an air of serene detachment.

For the first time since the stranding on the coast d'Alcacer's heart sank within him. ”But perhaps,” he went on, ”this Moor may not in the end insist on giving us up to a cruel death, Captain Lingard.”

”He wanted to give you up in the middle of the night, a few hours ago,”

said Lingard, without even looking at d'Alcacer who raised his hands a little and let them fall. Lingard sat down on the breech of a heavy piece mounted on a naval carriage so as to command the lagoon. He folded his arms on his breast. D'Alcacer asked, gently:

”We have been reprieved then?”

”No,” said Lingard. ”It's I who was reprieved.”

A long silence followed. Along the whole line of the manned stockade the whisperings had ceased. The vibrations of the gong had died out, too.

Only the watchers perched in the highest boughs of the big tree made a slight rustle amongst the leaves.

”What are you thinking of, Captain Lingard?” d'Alcacer asked in a low voice. Lingard did not change his position.

”I am trying to keep it off,” he said in the same tone.