March 21, 2025 • 31 mins
Almayer’s Folly is a dramatic tale of ambition, greed, and personal downfall. European trader Kaspar Almayer, obsessed with finding gold in Malaysia, watches his dreams crumble as his family and fortune slip away. A haunting study of colonialism and failure.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
The public domain recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter seven. The
bright sunshine of the clear, mistless morning after the stormy
night flood at the main path of the settlement, leading
from the low shore of the Pontai branch of the
river to the gate of Abdullah's compound, the path was
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deserted this morning. It stretched its dark yellow surface, hard
beaten by the tramp of many bare feet, between the
clusters of palm trees, whose tall trunks barred it with
strong black lines at irregular intervals, while the newly risen
sun through the shadows of their leafy heads, far away,
over the roofs of the buildings lining the river, even
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over the river itself as it flowed swiftly and silently
past the deserted houses. For the houses were deserted too,
on the narrow strip of trodden grass intervening between their
open doors and the road. The morning fires smoldered untended,
sending thin fluted columns of smoke into the cool air
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and spreading the thinnest veil of mysterious blue haze over
the sunlit solitude of the settlement. All Meyer, just out
of his hammock, gazed sleepily at the unwonted appearance of Zambert.
Wondering vaguely at the absence of life. His own house
was very quiet. He could not hear his wife's voice,
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nor the sound of Nina's footsteps in the big room
opening on the veranda, which he called his sitting room.
Whenever in the company of white men he wished to
assert his claims to the commonplace decencies of civilization. Nobody
ever sat there. There was nothing there to sit upon.
For missus Allmeyer, in her savage moods, when excited by
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the reminiscences of the piratical period of her life, had
torn off the curtains to make sarongs for the slave girls,
and had burnt the showy furniture piecemeal to cook the
family rice. But all Meyer was not thinking of his
furniture now. He was thinking of Dane's return, of danes
knocking eternal interview with Lakamba, of its possible influence on
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his long matured plans, now nearing the period of their execution.
He was also uneasy at the non appearance of Dane,
who had promised him an early visit. The fellow had
plenty of time to cross the river, he mused, and
There was so much to be done today, the settling
of details for the early start on the morrow, the
launching of the boats, the thousand and one finishing touches
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for the expedition must start complete. Nothing should be forgotten,
and nothing should The sense of the unwanted solitude grew
upon him suddenly, and in the unusual silence, he caught
himself longing even for the usually unwelcome sound of his
wife's voice to break the oppressive stillness, which seemed to
his frightened fancy to pretend the advent of some new misfortune.
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What has happened, he muttered, half aloud, as he shuffled
in his imperfectly adjusted slippers towards the balustrade of the Verandah,
is everybody asleep or dead? The settlement was alive and
very much awake. It was awake ever since the early
break of day, when Mahmat Banjer, in a fit of
unheard of energy, arose and, taking up his hatchet, stepped
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over the sleeping forms of his two wives, and walked
shivering to the water's edge to make sure that the
new house he was building had not floated away during
the night. The house was being built by the enterprising
Mahmat on a large raft, and he yet securely moored
it just inside the muddy point of land at the
junction of the two branches of the Pantai, so as
to be out of the way of drifting logs that
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would no doubt strand on the point during the fresh shat.
Mamat walked through the wet grass, saying barrao and cursing
softly to himself the hard necessities of active light that
drove him from his warm couch into the cold of
the morning. A glance showed him that his house was
still there, and he congratulated himself on his foresight in
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hauling it out of harm's way, for the increasing light
showed him a confume rack of drift logs half stranded
on the muddy flat, interlocked into a shapeless wrap by
their branches, tossing to and fro and grinding together in
the eddy caused by the meeting currents of the two
branches of the river. Mahmat walked down to the water's
edge to examine the rattan moorings of his house just
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as the sun cleared the trees of the forest on
the opposite shore. As he bent over the fastings. He
glanced again carelessly at the unquiet jumble of logs, and
saw there something that caused him to drop his hatchet
and stand up, shading his eyes with his hand from
the rays of the setting sun. It was something red,
and the logs rolled over it, at times closing round it,
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sometimes hiding it. It looked to him at first like
a strip of red cloth. The next moment Mahmat had
made it out and raised a great shout. Ay yat there,
yelled Mama, there's a man amongst the logs. He put
the palms of his hand to his lips and shouted,
enunciating distinctly. His face turned towards the settlement. There's a
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body of a man in the river. Come and see
a dead stranger. The women of the nearest house were
already outside, kindling the fires and husking the morning rice.
They took up the cry shrilly, and it traveled so
from house to house, dying away in the distance. The
men rushed out, excited but silent, and ran towards the
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muddy point, where the unconscious laws tossed and ground and
bumped and rolled over the dead stranger with the stupid
persistency of inanimate things. The women followed, neglecting their domestic
duties and disregarding the possibilities of domestic discontent, while groups
of children brought up the rear, warbling joyously in the
delight of unexpected excitement. All Meyer called aloud for his
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wife and daughter, but, receiving no response, stood listening intently.
The murmur of the crowd reached him faintly, bringing with
it the assurance of some unusual event. He glanced at
the river just as he was going to leave the veranda,
and checked himself at the sight of a small canoe
crossing over from the Rajah's landing place. The solitary occupant
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in whom Almyer soon recognized, Babolachi, effected the crossing a
little below the house and paddled up to the lingard
jetty in the dead water under the bank. Babolachi clambered
out slowly and went on fastening his canoe with fastidious care,
as if not in a hurry to meet Almyer, whom
he saw looking at him from the veranda. This delay
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gave all Meyer time to notice and greatly wonder at
Babolachi's official ghett up the statesman of Zambert was clad
in a costume befitting his high rank. A loudly checkered
sarong encircled his waist, and from its many folds peeped
out the silver hilt of the crist that saw the
light only on great festivals or during official receptions. Over
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the left shoulder and across the otherwise unclad breast of
the aged diplomatist glistened a patent leather belt bearing a
brass plate with the arms of Netherlands under the inscription
Sultan of Samber Babolachi's head was covered by a red turban,
whose fringed ends, falling over the left cheek and shoulder,
gave to his aged face a ludicrous expression of joyous recklessness.
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When the canoe was at last fastened, to his satisfaction,
he straightened himself up, shaking down the folds of his sarong,
and moved with long strides towards Almayer's house, swinging regularly
his long ebony staff, whose gold head ornamented with precious stones,
flashed in the morning sun. Almayer waved his hand to
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the right towards the point of land to him, invisible
but in full view. From the jetty. Oh, Babolachi, Oh,
He called out, what is the matter there? Can you see?
Babolachi stopped and gazed intently at the crowd on the
river bank, And after a little while, the astonished almayer
saw him leave the path, gather up his sarong in
one hand, and break into a trot through the grass
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towards the muddy point. All Meyer, now greatly interested, ran
down the steps of the verandah. The murmur of men's
voices and the shrill cries of women reached him quite
distinctly now, and as soon as he turned the corner
of his house, he could see the crowd on the
low promontree swaying and pushing around some objective interest. He
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could indistinctly hear Babolacchi's voice. Then the crowd opened before
the aged statesman and closed after him with an excited hum,
ending in a loud shout. As all Meyer approached the throng,
a man ran out and rushed past him towards the settlement,
unheeding his call to stop and explain the cause of
this excitement. On the very outskirts of the crowd, all
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Meyer found himself arrested by an unyielding mass of humanity,
regardless of his entreaties for a passage, insensible to his
gentle pushes. As he tried to work his way through
it towards the river side. In the midst of his
gentle and slow progress, he fancied suddenly he had heard
his Boyfe's voice in the thickness of the throng. He
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could not mistake very well missus Almyer's high pitched tones,
yet the words were too indistinct for him to understand
their purport. He paused in his endeavors to make a
passage for himself, intending to get some intelligence from those
around him, when a long and piercing shriek rent the air,
silencing the murmurs of the crowd and the voices of
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his informants. For a moment, al Meyer remained as if
turned into stone with astonishment and horror, for he was
certain now that he had heard his wife wailing for
the dead. He remembered Nina's unusual absence, and maddened by
his apprehensions as to her safety, he pushed blindly and
violently forward, the crowd falling back with cries of surprise
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and pain. Before his frandic advance on the point of land.
In a little fierce space lay the body of the stranger,
just hauled out from amongst the logs. On one side
stood Babolachi, his chin resting on the head of his
staff and his one eye gazing steadily at the shapeless
mass of broken limbs, torn flesh, and blood stained rags.
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As all Meyer burst through the ring of horrified spectators,
Missus Almyer threw her own head veil over the upturned
face of the drowned man, and squatting by it, with
another mournful howl, sent a shiver through the now silent crowd. Mahmat,
dripping wet, turned to Almyer, eager to tell his tale.
In the first moment of reaction from the anguish of
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his spear, the sunshine seemed to waver before all Meyer's eyes,
and he listened to words spoken around him without comprehending
their meaning. When by a strong effort of will he
regained the possession of his senses, Mahmat was saying, that
is the way. Twan his sarong was caught in the
broken branch, and he hung with his head underwater. When
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I saw what it was I did not want a tear.
I wanted it to get clear and drift away. Why
should we bury a stranger in the midst of our
houses for his ghost to frighten our women and children?
Have we not enough ghosts about this place? A murmur
of approval interrupted him. Here Mamot looked reproachfully at Babolachi,
but the twan Babolachi ordered me to drag the body ashore.
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He went on, looking round at his audience, but addressing
himself only to Almyer, and I dragged him by the
feet in through the mud. I have dragged him, although
my heart longed to see him float down the river
to strand, perchance, on Babolachi's clearing, may his father's grave
be defiled. There was subdued laughter at this, for the
enmity of Mahmat and Belangi was a matter of common
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notoriety and of undying interest to the inhabitants of sam Beer.
In the midst of that mirth, missus Almyer wailed suddenly again, Allah,
what ails? The woman exclaimed Mamot angrily. Here, I have
touched this carcass, which came from nobody knows where, and
have most likely defiled myself before eating rice by orders
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of Twan Babolachi. I did this thing to please the
white man, or you pleased o Twan allmight, And what
will be my recompense? Twan Babolachi set a recompense there
will be and from you now consider I have been defiled,
and if not defiled, I may be under the spell.
Look at his anklets. Whoever heard of a corpse appearing
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during the night amongst the laws with gold anklets on
its legs. There is witchcraft here, however, added Mahmat, after
a reflective pause, I will have the anklet if there
is permission, For I have a charm against a ghost,
and I am not afraid. God is great. A fresh
outburst of noisy grief from missus Almyer checked the flow
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of Mahmot's eloquence. Almeyer, bewildered, looked in turn at his wife,
at Mahmat at Babolachi, and at last arrested his fascinated
gaze on the body lying on the mud with covered
face in a grotesquely unnatural pretortion of mangled and broken limbs,
one twisted and lacerated arm, with the white bones protruding
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in many places through the torn flesh stretched out the
hand with outspread fingers, nearly touching his foot. Do you
know who this is? He asked of Babolachi in a
low voice. Babolachi, staring straight before him, hardly moved his lips,
while missus Allmeyer's persisted lamentations drowned the whisper of his
murmured reply, intended only for all Meyer's ear. It was fate.
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Look at your feet, white man. I could see a
ring on those torn fingers, which I know well. Saying this,
Babolachi stepped carelessly forward, putting his foot as if accidentally,
on the hand of the corpse, and pressing it into
the soft mud. He swung his staff menacingly towards the crowd,
which fell back. A little go away, he said sternly,
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and send your women to their cooking fires, which they
ought not to have left to run after a dead stranger.
This is men's work here. I take him now in
the name of the Rajah. Let no man remain here,
but twat all Meyer's slaves now go. The crowd reluctantly
began to disperse. The women went first, dragging away the
children that hung back with all their weight on the
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maternal hand. The men strolled slowly after them, in ever
forming and changing groups that gradually dissolved as they neared
the settlement, and every man regained his own house with
steps quickened by the hungry anticipation of the morning rice.
Only on the slight elevation were the land sloped down
towards the muddy point. A few men, either friends or
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enemies of Mahmat, remained gazing curiously for some time longer
at the small group standing around the body on the
river bank. I do not understand what you mean, Babolachi,
said almayer. What is the ring you are talking about?
Whoever he is, You have trodden the poor fellow's hand
right into the mud. Uncover his face. He went on,
addressing missus Almyer, who squatting by the head of the corpse,
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rocked herself to and fro, shaking from time to time
her disheveled gray locks, and muttering mournfully. Hi, exclaimed Mahmat,
who had lingered close by. Look twan the logs came
together so and here he pressed the palms of his
hands together, and his head must have been between them.
And now there is no face for you to look at.
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There are his flesh and his bones, the nose and
the lips, and maybe his eyes, but nobody could tell
the one from the other. It was written the day
he was born, that no man could look at him
in death and be able to say, this is my
friend's face. Silence, Mama, enough, said Babolachi, And take thy
eyes off his anklet thou eatar a pig's flesh. Twan Almyer,
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he went on, lowering his voice. Have you seen dame
this morning? All Meyer opened his eyes wide and looked alarm. No,
he said, quickly, haven't you seen him? Is he not
with the rajah? I am waiting? Why does he not come?
Babolachi nodded his head sadly. He is come. Twan. He
left last night, when the storm was great and the
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river spoke angrily. The night was very black, but he
had within him a light that showed the way to
your house as smooth as a narrow backwater, and the
many logs no bigger than wists of dried grass. Therefore
he went, and now he lies here. And Babolachi nodded
his head towards the body. How can you tell, said Almayer, excitedly,
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pushing his wife aside. He snatched the cover off and
looked at the formless mass of flesh, hair and drying
mud where the face of the drowned man should have been.
Nobody can tell, he added, turning away with a shudder.
Babolachi was on his knees, wiping the mud from the
stiffened fingers of the outstretched hand. He rose to his
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feet and flashed before all Meyer's eyes a gold ring
set with a large green stone. You know this well,
he said. This never left Dane's hand. I had to
tear the flesh now to get it off. Do you
believe now? Almyer raised his hands to his head and
let them fall listlessly by his side, in the utter
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abandonment of despair. Babolachi, looking at him curiously, was a
stop to see him smile. A strange fancy had taken
possession of all Meyer's brain. Distracted by this new misfortune,
it seemed to him that for many years he had
been falling into a deep precipice. Day after day, month
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after month, year after year, he had been falling, falling, falling.
It was a smooth, round, black thing, and the black
walls had been rushing upwards with wearisome rapidity, a great rush,
the noise of which he fancied he could hear yet,
And now, with an awful shock, he had reached the bottom,
and behold he was alive and whole, And Dane was dead,
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with all his bones broken. It struck him as funny,
a dead melee. He had seen many dead meles without
any emotion, and now he felt inclined to weep. But
it was over the fate of a white man. He
knew a man that fell over a deep precipice and
did not die. He seemed somehow to himself to be
standing on one side, a little way off, looking at
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a certain Almyer who was in great trouble. Poor poor fellow,
Why doesn't he cut his throat? He wished to encourage him.
He was very anxious to see him lying dead over
that other corpse. Why does he not die and end
this suffering? He groaned aloud unconsciously, and started with a
fright at the sound of his own voice. Was he
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going mad? Terrified by the thought, he turned away and
ran towards his house, repeating to himself, I am not
going mad, of course, not, no, no, no. He tried
to keep a firm hold of the idea. Not mad,
not mad, he stumbled as he ran blindly up the steps,
repeating fast and ever faster. Those words were in seemed
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to lie his salvation. He saw Nina standing there and
wished to say something to her, but could not remember what.
In his extreme anxiety, not to forget that he was
not going mad, which he still kept repeating mad as
he ran round the table till he stumbled against one
of the armchairs and dropped into it. Exhausted, he sat
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staring wildly at Nina, still assuring himself mentally of his
own sanity, and wondering why the girl shrank from him
in open eyed alarm. What was the matter with her?
This was foolish. He struck the table violently with his
clenched fist and shouted hoarsely, give me some gin. Run then,
while Nina ran off, he remained in the chair, very
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still and quiet, astonished at the noise he had made.
Nina returned with a tumbler half filled with gin, and
found her father staring absently before him. Allmeyer felt very
tired now, as if he had come from a long journey.
He felt as if he had walked miles and miles
that morning, and now wanted to rest very much. He
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took the tumbler with a shaking hand, and as he
drank his teeth chattered against the glass, which he drained,
and sat down heavily on the table, his eyes slowly
towards Nina standing beside him, and said steadily, Now all
is over, Nina. He is dead, and I may as
well burn all my boats. He felt very proud of
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being able to speak so calmly, decidedly he was not
going mad. This certitude was very comforting, and he went
on talking about the finding of the body, listening to
his own voice complacently. Nina stood quietly, her hand resting
lightly on her father's shoulder, her face unmoved, but every
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line of her features, the attitude of her whole body
expressing the most keen and anxious attention. And so Dane
is dead, she said coldly. When her father ceased speaking,
all myers elaborately calm demeanor gave way in a moment
to an outburst of violent indignation. You stand there as
if you were only half alive, and talk to me,
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he exclaimed, angrily, as if it was a matter of
no importance. Yes, he is dead. Do you understand dead,
what do you care? You never cared. You saw me
struggle and work and strive, unmoved, and my suffering. You
could never see, no never, You have no heart and
you have no mind, or you would have understood that
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it was for you, for your happiness. I was working.
I wanted to be rich. I wanted to get away
from here. I wanted to see white men bowing low
before the power of your beauty and your wealth. Old
as I am. I wished to seek a strange land,
a civilization to which I am a stranger, so as
to find a new life in the contemplation of your
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high fortunes, of your triumphs, of your happiness. For that
I bore patiently the burden of work, of disappointment, of
humiliation amongst these savages here, And I had it all
nearly in my grasp. He looked at his daughter's attentive
face and jumped to his feet, upsetting the chair. Do
you hear I had it all there so within reach
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of my hand. He paused, trying to keep down his
rising anger, and failed. Have you no feeling? He went on,
Have you lived without hope? Nina's silence exasperated him. His
voice rose, although he tried to master his feelings. Are
you content to live in this misery and die in
this wretched hole? Say something, Nina. Have you no sympathy?
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Have you no word of comfort for me? I that
loved you. So he waited for a while for an answer, and,
receiving none, shook his fist in his daughter's face. I
believe you are an idiot, he yelled. He looked round
from the chair, picked it up, and sat down stiffly.
His anger was dead within him, and he felt ashamed
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of his outburst, yet believed to think that now he
had laid clear before his daughter the inner meaning of
his life. He thought so in perfect good faith, deceived
by the emotional estimate of his motives, unable to see
the crookedness of his ways, the unreality of his aims,
the futility of his regrets. And now his heart was
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filled only with a great tenderness and love for his daughter.
He wanted to see her miserable and to share with
her his despair, but he wanted it only as all
weak natures long for a companionship in misfortune, with beings
innocent of its cause. If she suffered herself, she would
understand and pity him. But now she would not or
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could not find one word of comfort or love for
him in his dire extremity. The sense of his absolute
loneliness came home to his heart with a force that
made him shudder. He swayed and fell forward with his
face on the table, his arms stretched straight out, extended
and rigid. Nina made a quick movement towards her father
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and stood looking at the gray head on the broad shoulders.
Shaken convulsively by the violence of feelings that found relief
at last in sobs and tears, Nina sighed deeply and
moved away from the table. Her features lost the appearance
of stony indifference that had exasperated her father into his
outburst of anger and sorrow. The expression of her face,
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now unseen by her father, underwent a rapid change. She
had listened to all Meyer's appeal for sympathy for one
word of comfort, apparently indifferent, yet with her breast torn
by conflicting impulses raised unexpectedly by events she had not foreseen,
or at least did not expect to happen so soon,
With her heart deeply moved by the sight of Almeyer's misery,
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knowing it in her power to end it with a word,
longing to bring peace to that troubled heart, she heard
with terror the voice of her overpowering love commanding her
to be silent, and she submitted. After a short and
fierce struggle of her old self against the new principle
of her life, she wrapped herself up in absolute silence,
the only safeguard against some fatal admission. She could not
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trust herself to make a sign, to murmur a word,
for fear of saying too much. That the very violence
of the feelings that stirred the innermost recesses of her
soul seemed to turn her person into a stone. The
dilated nostrils and the flashing eyes were the only signs
of the storm raging within, and those signs of his
daughter's emotion, Almyer did not see, for his sight was
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dim by self pity, by anger, and by despair. Had
Almeyer looked at his daughter as she leant over the
front rail of the veranda, he could have seen the
expression of indifference give way to a look of pain,
and that again pass away, leaving the glorious beauty of
her face marred by deep, drawn lines of watchful anxiety.
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The long grass in the neglected courtyard stood very straight
before her eyes. In the noonday heat from the river bank.
There were voices and a shuffle of bare feet approaching
the house. Baba Lachi could be heard giving directions to
Allmyer's men and Missus. Allmyer's subdued wailing became audible as
the small procession, bearing the body of the drowned man
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and headed by that south powful matron, turned the corner
of the house. Babolachi had taken the broken anklet off
the man's leg and now held it in his hand
as he moved by the side of the bears, while
Mama lingered behind timidly in the hopes of the promised reward.
Lay him there, said Babolachi to all Meyer's men, pointing
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to a pile of drying planks in front of the
verandah lay him there. He was a kafir and the
son of a dog, and he was the white Man's friend.
He drank the white man's strong water. He added, with
affected horror, that I have seen myself. The men stretched
out the broken limbs on two planks they had laid level,
while Missus Almyer covered the body with a piece of
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white cotton cloth, and, after whispering for some time with Babolachi,
departed to her domestic duties. All Myer's men, after laying
down their burden, dispersed themselves in quest of shady spots
wherein to idle the day away. Babolachi was left alone
by the corpse that laid rigid under the white cloth
in the bright sunshine. Nina came down the steps and
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joined Babolachi, who put his hand to his forehead and
squat it down with great deference. You have a bangle, there,
said Nina, looking down on Babolachi's upturned face and into
his solitary eye. I have mempe Tu, returned the polite statesman.
Then turning towards Mahmat, he beckoned him closer, calling out
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come here. Mahmat approached with some hesitation. He avoided looking
at Nina, but fixed his eyes on Babolachi. Now, listen,
said Babolachi, sharply. The ring and the anklet you have seen,
and you know they belonged to Deign the trader and
to no other. Dane returned last night in the canoe,
he spoke with the Rajah and in the middle of
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the night left a cross over to the white Man's house.
There was a great flood, and this morning you found
him in the river by his feet. I dragged him out,
muttered Mahmat under his breath. Twan Babai, there will be
a recompense, he exclaimed aloud. Mabolachi held up the gold
bangle before Mahmat's eyes. What I have told you, Mamt,
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is for all years. What I give you now is
for your eyes only. Take. Mamot took the bangle eagerly
and hid it in the folds of his waistcloth. Am
I a fool to show this thing in a house
with three women in it? He growled. But I shall
tell them about day in the traitor, and there will
be talking enough. He turned and went away, increasing his pace.
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As soon as he was outside Almeyer's compound. Babolachi looked
after him till he disappeared behind the bushes. Have I
done well, mem pe tu, he asked, humbly, addressing Nina.
You have answered, Nina, the ring you may keep yourself.
Babolachi touched his lips and forehead and scrambled to his feet.
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He looked at Nina as if expecting her to say
something more, but Nina turned towards the house and went
up the steps, motioning him away with her hand. Babolachi
picked up his staff and prepared to go. It was
very warm, and he did not care for the long
pull to the Raja's house. Yet he must go and
tell the Rajah, tell of the event of the change
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in his plans, of all his suspicions. He walked to
the jetty and began casting off the retan painter of
his canoe. The broad expanse of the lower reach, with
its shimmering surface dotted by the black specks of the
fishing canoes, lay before his eyes. The fishermen seemed to
be racing. Babolachi paused in his work and looked on
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with sudden interest. The man in the foremost canoe, now
within hail of the first houses of Sambir, laid in
his paddle and stood up, shouting the boats, the boats,
the men of War's boats are coming. They are here.
In a moment, the settlement was again alive, with people
rushing to the river side. The men began to unfasten
their boats. The women stood in groups, looking towards the
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bend down the river. Above the trees lining the reach,
a slight puff of smoke appeared like a black stain
on the brilliant blue of the cloudless sky. Babolachi stood perplexed,
the painter in his hand. He looked down the reach,
then up towards Almayer's house, and back again at the river,
as if undecided what to do. At last, he made
(30:20):
the canoe fast again hastily, and ran towards the house
and up the steps of the Verandah twan twan. He
called eagerly. The boats are coming, the Man of War's boats.
You had better get ready. The officers will come here,
I know. Almeyer lifted his head slowly from the table
and looked at him stupidly. Mempu two, exclaimed Babolachi to Nina,
(30:42):
look at him. He does not hear. You must take care,
he added meaningly. Nina nodded to him with an uncertain
smile and was going to speak when a sharp report
from a gun mounted in the bow of the steam
launch that was just then coming into view arrested the
words on her parted lips. The smile died out and
was replaced by the old look of anxious attention from
(31:06):
the hills. Far away. The echo came back like a long,
drawn and mournful sigh, as if the land had sent
it in answer to the voice of its masters. End
of Chapter seven. Recording by Tom Weiss, Tom's audiobooks dot com.
The public domain recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter seven. The
bright sunshine of the clear, mistless morning after the stormy
night flood at the main path of the settlement, leading
from the low shore of the Pontai branch of the
river to the gate of Abdullah's compound, the path was
(00:20):
deserted this morning. It stretched its dark yellow surface, hard
beaten by the tramp of many bare feet, between the
clusters of palm trees, whose tall trunks barred it with
strong black lines at irregular intervals, while the newly risen
sun through the shadows of their leafy heads, far away,
over the roofs of the buildings lining the river, even
(00:40):
over the river itself as it flowed swiftly and silently
past the deserted houses. For the houses were deserted too,
on the narrow strip of trodden grass intervening between their
open doors and the road. The morning fires smoldered untended,
sending thin fluted columns of smoke into the cool air
(01:00):
and spreading the thinnest veil of mysterious blue haze over
the sunlit solitude of the settlement. All Meyer, just out
of his hammock, gazed sleepily at the unwonted appearance of Zambert.
Wondering vaguely at the absence of life. His own house
was very quiet. He could not hear his wife's voice,
(01:21):
nor the sound of Nina's footsteps in the big room
opening on the veranda, which he called his sitting room.
Whenever in the company of white men he wished to
assert his claims to the commonplace decencies of civilization. Nobody
ever sat there. There was nothing there to sit upon.
For missus Allmeyer, in her savage moods, when excited by
(01:41):
the reminiscences of the piratical period of her life, had
torn off the curtains to make sarongs for the slave girls,
and had burnt the showy furniture piecemeal to cook the
family rice. But all Meyer was not thinking of his
furniture now. He was thinking of Dane's return, of danes
knocking eternal interview with Lakamba, of its possible influence on
(02:03):
his long matured plans, now nearing the period of their execution.
He was also uneasy at the non appearance of Dane,
who had promised him an early visit. The fellow had
plenty of time to cross the river, he mused, and
There was so much to be done today, the settling
of details for the early start on the morrow, the
launching of the boats, the thousand and one finishing touches
(02:27):
for the expedition must start complete. Nothing should be forgotten,
and nothing should The sense of the unwanted solitude grew
upon him suddenly, and in the unusual silence, he caught
himself longing even for the usually unwelcome sound of his
wife's voice to break the oppressive stillness, which seemed to
his frightened fancy to pretend the advent of some new misfortune.
(02:50):
What has happened, he muttered, half aloud, as he shuffled
in his imperfectly adjusted slippers towards the balustrade of the Verandah,
is everybody asleep or dead? The settlement was alive and
very much awake. It was awake ever since the early
break of day, when Mahmat Banjer, in a fit of
unheard of energy, arose and, taking up his hatchet, stepped
(03:13):
over the sleeping forms of his two wives, and walked
shivering to the water's edge to make sure that the
new house he was building had not floated away during
the night. The house was being built by the enterprising
Mahmat on a large raft, and he yet securely moored
it just inside the muddy point of land at the
junction of the two branches of the Pantai, so as
to be out of the way of drifting logs that
(03:35):
would no doubt strand on the point during the fresh shat.
Mamat walked through the wet grass, saying barrao and cursing
softly to himself the hard necessities of active light that
drove him from his warm couch into the cold of
the morning. A glance showed him that his house was
still there, and he congratulated himself on his foresight in
(03:55):
hauling it out of harm's way, for the increasing light
showed him a confume rack of drift logs half stranded
on the muddy flat, interlocked into a shapeless wrap by
their branches, tossing to and fro and grinding together in
the eddy caused by the meeting currents of the two
branches of the river. Mahmat walked down to the water's
edge to examine the rattan moorings of his house just
(04:18):
as the sun cleared the trees of the forest on
the opposite shore. As he bent over the fastings. He
glanced again carelessly at the unquiet jumble of logs, and
saw there something that caused him to drop his hatchet
and stand up, shading his eyes with his hand from
the rays of the setting sun. It was something red,
and the logs rolled over it, at times closing round it,
(04:41):
sometimes hiding it. It looked to him at first like
a strip of red cloth. The next moment Mahmat had
made it out and raised a great shout. Ay yat there,
yelled Mama, there's a man amongst the logs. He put
the palms of his hand to his lips and shouted,
enunciating distinctly. His face turned towards the settlement. There's a
(05:02):
body of a man in the river. Come and see
a dead stranger. The women of the nearest house were
already outside, kindling the fires and husking the morning rice.
They took up the cry shrilly, and it traveled so
from house to house, dying away in the distance. The
men rushed out, excited but silent, and ran towards the
(05:23):
muddy point, where the unconscious laws tossed and ground and
bumped and rolled over the dead stranger with the stupid
persistency of inanimate things. The women followed, neglecting their domestic
duties and disregarding the possibilities of domestic discontent, while groups
of children brought up the rear, warbling joyously in the
delight of unexpected excitement. All Meyer called aloud for his
(05:47):
wife and daughter, but, receiving no response, stood listening intently.
The murmur of the crowd reached him faintly, bringing with
it the assurance of some unusual event. He glanced at
the river just as he was going to leave the veranda,
and checked himself at the sight of a small canoe
crossing over from the Rajah's landing place. The solitary occupant
(06:09):
in whom Almyer soon recognized, Babolachi, effected the crossing a
little below the house and paddled up to the lingard
jetty in the dead water under the bank. Babolachi clambered
out slowly and went on fastening his canoe with fastidious care,
as if not in a hurry to meet Almyer, whom
he saw looking at him from the veranda. This delay
(06:31):
gave all Meyer time to notice and greatly wonder at
Babolachi's official ghett up the statesman of Zambert was clad
in a costume befitting his high rank. A loudly checkered
sarong encircled his waist, and from its many folds peeped
out the silver hilt of the crist that saw the
light only on great festivals or during official receptions. Over
(06:53):
the left shoulder and across the otherwise unclad breast of
the aged diplomatist glistened a patent leather belt bearing a
brass plate with the arms of Netherlands under the inscription
Sultan of Samber Babolachi's head was covered by a red turban,
whose fringed ends, falling over the left cheek and shoulder,
gave to his aged face a ludicrous expression of joyous recklessness.
(07:17):
When the canoe was at last fastened, to his satisfaction,
he straightened himself up, shaking down the folds of his sarong,
and moved with long strides towards Almayer's house, swinging regularly
his long ebony staff, whose gold head ornamented with precious stones,
flashed in the morning sun. Almayer waved his hand to
(07:37):
the right towards the point of land to him, invisible
but in full view. From the jetty. Oh, Babolachi, Oh,
He called out, what is the matter there? Can you see?
Babolachi stopped and gazed intently at the crowd on the
river bank, And after a little while, the astonished almayer
saw him leave the path, gather up his sarong in
one hand, and break into a trot through the grass
(08:00):
towards the muddy point. All Meyer, now greatly interested, ran
down the steps of the verandah. The murmur of men's
voices and the shrill cries of women reached him quite
distinctly now, and as soon as he turned the corner
of his house, he could see the crowd on the
low promontree swaying and pushing around some objective interest. He
(08:20):
could indistinctly hear Babolacchi's voice. Then the crowd opened before
the aged statesman and closed after him with an excited hum,
ending in a loud shout. As all Meyer approached the throng,
a man ran out and rushed past him towards the settlement,
unheeding his call to stop and explain the cause of
this excitement. On the very outskirts of the crowd, all
(08:43):
Meyer found himself arrested by an unyielding mass of humanity,
regardless of his entreaties for a passage, insensible to his
gentle pushes. As he tried to work his way through
it towards the river side. In the midst of his
gentle and slow progress, he fancied suddenly he had heard
his Boyfe's voice in the thickness of the throng. He
(09:03):
could not mistake very well missus Almyer's high pitched tones,
yet the words were too indistinct for him to understand
their purport. He paused in his endeavors to make a
passage for himself, intending to get some intelligence from those
around him, when a long and piercing shriek rent the air,
silencing the murmurs of the crowd and the voices of
(09:24):
his informants. For a moment, al Meyer remained as if
turned into stone with astonishment and horror, for he was
certain now that he had heard his wife wailing for
the dead. He remembered Nina's unusual absence, and maddened by
his apprehensions as to her safety, he pushed blindly and
violently forward, the crowd falling back with cries of surprise
(09:45):
and pain. Before his frandic advance on the point of land.
In a little fierce space lay the body of the stranger,
just hauled out from amongst the logs. On one side
stood Babolachi, his chin resting on the head of his
staff and his one eye gazing steadily at the shapeless
mass of broken limbs, torn flesh, and blood stained rags.
(10:06):
As all Meyer burst through the ring of horrified spectators,
Missus Almyer threw her own head veil over the upturned
face of the drowned man, and squatting by it, with
another mournful howl, sent a shiver through the now silent crowd. Mahmat,
dripping wet, turned to Almyer, eager to tell his tale.
In the first moment of reaction from the anguish of
(10:27):
his spear, the sunshine seemed to waver before all Meyer's eyes,
and he listened to words spoken around him without comprehending
their meaning. When by a strong effort of will he
regained the possession of his senses, Mahmat was saying, that
is the way. Twan his sarong was caught in the
broken branch, and he hung with his head underwater. When
(10:48):
I saw what it was I did not want a tear.
I wanted it to get clear and drift away. Why
should we bury a stranger in the midst of our
houses for his ghost to frighten our women and children?
Have we not enough ghosts about this place? A murmur
of approval interrupted him. Here Mamot looked reproachfully at Babolachi,
but the twan Babolachi ordered me to drag the body ashore.
(11:11):
He went on, looking round at his audience, but addressing
himself only to Almyer, and I dragged him by the
feet in through the mud. I have dragged him, although
my heart longed to see him float down the river
to strand, perchance, on Babolachi's clearing, may his father's grave
be defiled. There was subdued laughter at this, for the
enmity of Mahmat and Belangi was a matter of common
(11:33):
notoriety and of undying interest to the inhabitants of sam Beer.
In the midst of that mirth, missus Almyer wailed suddenly again, Allah,
what ails? The woman exclaimed Mamot angrily. Here, I have
touched this carcass, which came from nobody knows where, and
have most likely defiled myself before eating rice by orders
(11:54):
of Twan Babolachi. I did this thing to please the
white man, or you pleased o Twan allmight, And what
will be my recompense? Twan Babolachi set a recompense there
will be and from you now consider I have been defiled,
and if not defiled, I may be under the spell.
Look at his anklets. Whoever heard of a corpse appearing
(12:15):
during the night amongst the laws with gold anklets on
its legs. There is witchcraft here, however, added Mahmat, after
a reflective pause, I will have the anklet if there
is permission, For I have a charm against a ghost,
and I am not afraid. God is great. A fresh
outburst of noisy grief from missus Almyer checked the flow
(12:36):
of Mahmot's eloquence. Almeyer, bewildered, looked in turn at his wife,
at Mahmat at Babolachi, and at last arrested his fascinated
gaze on the body lying on the mud with covered
face in a grotesquely unnatural pretortion of mangled and broken limbs,
one twisted and lacerated arm, with the white bones protruding
(12:57):
in many places through the torn flesh stretched out the
hand with outspread fingers, nearly touching his foot. Do you
know who this is? He asked of Babolachi in a
low voice. Babolachi, staring straight before him, hardly moved his lips,
while missus Allmeyer's persisted lamentations drowned the whisper of his
murmured reply, intended only for all Meyer's ear. It was fate.
(13:19):
Look at your feet, white man. I could see a
ring on those torn fingers, which I know well. Saying this,
Babolachi stepped carelessly forward, putting his foot as if accidentally,
on the hand of the corpse, and pressing it into
the soft mud. He swung his staff menacingly towards the crowd,
which fell back. A little go away, he said sternly,
(13:40):
and send your women to their cooking fires, which they
ought not to have left to run after a dead stranger.
This is men's work here. I take him now in
the name of the Rajah. Let no man remain here,
but twat all Meyer's slaves now go. The crowd reluctantly
began to disperse. The women went first, dragging away the
children that hung back with all their weight on the
(14:02):
maternal hand. The men strolled slowly after them, in ever
forming and changing groups that gradually dissolved as they neared
the settlement, and every man regained his own house with
steps quickened by the hungry anticipation of the morning rice.
Only on the slight elevation were the land sloped down
towards the muddy point. A few men, either friends or
(14:23):
enemies of Mahmat, remained gazing curiously for some time longer
at the small group standing around the body on the
river bank. I do not understand what you mean, Babolachi,
said almayer. What is the ring you are talking about?
Whoever he is, You have trodden the poor fellow's hand
right into the mud. Uncover his face. He went on,
addressing missus Almyer, who squatting by the head of the corpse,
(14:47):
rocked herself to and fro, shaking from time to time
her disheveled gray locks, and muttering mournfully. Hi, exclaimed Mahmat,
who had lingered close by. Look twan the logs came
together so and here he pressed the palms of his
hands together, and his head must have been between them.
And now there is no face for you to look at.
(15:07):
There are his flesh and his bones, the nose and
the lips, and maybe his eyes, but nobody could tell
the one from the other. It was written the day
he was born, that no man could look at him
in death and be able to say, this is my
friend's face. Silence, Mama, enough, said Babolachi, And take thy
eyes off his anklet thou eatar a pig's flesh. Twan Almyer,
(15:29):
he went on, lowering his voice. Have you seen dame
this morning? All Meyer opened his eyes wide and looked alarm. No,
he said, quickly, haven't you seen him? Is he not
with the rajah? I am waiting? Why does he not come?
Babolachi nodded his head sadly. He is come. Twan. He
left last night, when the storm was great and the
(15:51):
river spoke angrily. The night was very black, but he
had within him a light that showed the way to
your house as smooth as a narrow backwater, and the
many logs no bigger than wists of dried grass. Therefore
he went, and now he lies here. And Babolachi nodded
his head towards the body. How can you tell, said Almayer, excitedly,
(16:14):
pushing his wife aside. He snatched the cover off and
looked at the formless mass of flesh, hair and drying
mud where the face of the drowned man should have been.
Nobody can tell, he added, turning away with a shudder.
Babolachi was on his knees, wiping the mud from the
stiffened fingers of the outstretched hand. He rose to his
(16:34):
feet and flashed before all Meyer's eyes a gold ring
set with a large green stone. You know this well,
he said. This never left Dane's hand. I had to
tear the flesh now to get it off. Do you
believe now? Almyer raised his hands to his head and
let them fall listlessly by his side, in the utter
(16:54):
abandonment of despair. Babolachi, looking at him curiously, was a
stop to see him smile. A strange fancy had taken
possession of all Meyer's brain. Distracted by this new misfortune,
it seemed to him that for many years he had
been falling into a deep precipice. Day after day, month
(17:15):
after month, year after year, he had been falling, falling, falling.
It was a smooth, round, black thing, and the black
walls had been rushing upwards with wearisome rapidity, a great rush,
the noise of which he fancied he could hear yet,
And now, with an awful shock, he had reached the bottom,
and behold he was alive and whole, And Dane was dead,
(17:39):
with all his bones broken. It struck him as funny,
a dead melee. He had seen many dead meles without
any emotion, and now he felt inclined to weep. But
it was over the fate of a white man. He
knew a man that fell over a deep precipice and
did not die. He seemed somehow to himself to be
standing on one side, a little way off, looking at
(18:03):
a certain Almyer who was in great trouble. Poor poor fellow,
Why doesn't he cut his throat? He wished to encourage him.
He was very anxious to see him lying dead over
that other corpse. Why does he not die and end
this suffering? He groaned aloud unconsciously, and started with a
fright at the sound of his own voice. Was he
(18:24):
going mad? Terrified by the thought, he turned away and
ran towards his house, repeating to himself, I am not
going mad, of course, not, no, no, no. He tried
to keep a firm hold of the idea. Not mad,
not mad, he stumbled as he ran blindly up the steps,
repeating fast and ever faster. Those words were in seemed
(18:46):
to lie his salvation. He saw Nina standing there and
wished to say something to her, but could not remember what.
In his extreme anxiety, not to forget that he was
not going mad, which he still kept repeating mad as
he ran round the table till he stumbled against one
of the armchairs and dropped into it. Exhausted, he sat
(19:07):
staring wildly at Nina, still assuring himself mentally of his
own sanity, and wondering why the girl shrank from him
in open eyed alarm. What was the matter with her?
This was foolish. He struck the table violently with his
clenched fist and shouted hoarsely, give me some gin. Run then,
while Nina ran off, he remained in the chair, very
(19:28):
still and quiet, astonished at the noise he had made.
Nina returned with a tumbler half filled with gin, and
found her father staring absently before him. Allmeyer felt very
tired now, as if he had come from a long journey.
He felt as if he had walked miles and miles
that morning, and now wanted to rest very much. He
(19:51):
took the tumbler with a shaking hand, and as he
drank his teeth chattered against the glass, which he drained,
and sat down heavily on the table, his eyes slowly
towards Nina standing beside him, and said steadily, Now all
is over, Nina. He is dead, and I may as
well burn all my boats. He felt very proud of
(20:12):
being able to speak so calmly, decidedly he was not
going mad. This certitude was very comforting, and he went
on talking about the finding of the body, listening to
his own voice complacently. Nina stood quietly, her hand resting
lightly on her father's shoulder, her face unmoved, but every
(20:32):
line of her features, the attitude of her whole body
expressing the most keen and anxious attention. And so Dane
is dead, she said coldly. When her father ceased speaking,
all myers elaborately calm demeanor gave way in a moment
to an outburst of violent indignation. You stand there as
if you were only half alive, and talk to me,
(20:53):
he exclaimed, angrily, as if it was a matter of
no importance. Yes, he is dead. Do you understand dead,
what do you care? You never cared. You saw me
struggle and work and strive, unmoved, and my suffering. You
could never see, no never, You have no heart and
you have no mind, or you would have understood that
(21:13):
it was for you, for your happiness. I was working.
I wanted to be rich. I wanted to get away
from here. I wanted to see white men bowing low
before the power of your beauty and your wealth. Old
as I am. I wished to seek a strange land,
a civilization to which I am a stranger, so as
to find a new life in the contemplation of your
(21:35):
high fortunes, of your triumphs, of your happiness. For that
I bore patiently the burden of work, of disappointment, of
humiliation amongst these savages here, And I had it all
nearly in my grasp. He looked at his daughter's attentive
face and jumped to his feet, upsetting the chair. Do
you hear I had it all there so within reach
(21:58):
of my hand. He paused, trying to keep down his
rising anger, and failed. Have you no feeling? He went on,
Have you lived without hope? Nina's silence exasperated him. His
voice rose, although he tried to master his feelings. Are
you content to live in this misery and die in
this wretched hole? Say something, Nina. Have you no sympathy?
(22:20):
Have you no word of comfort for me? I that
loved you. So he waited for a while for an answer, and,
receiving none, shook his fist in his daughter's face. I
believe you are an idiot, he yelled. He looked round
from the chair, picked it up, and sat down stiffly.
His anger was dead within him, and he felt ashamed
(22:40):
of his outburst, yet believed to think that now he
had laid clear before his daughter the inner meaning of
his life. He thought so in perfect good faith, deceived
by the emotional estimate of his motives, unable to see
the crookedness of his ways, the unreality of his aims,
the futility of his regrets. And now his heart was
(23:01):
filled only with a great tenderness and love for his daughter.
He wanted to see her miserable and to share with
her his despair, but he wanted it only as all
weak natures long for a companionship in misfortune, with beings
innocent of its cause. If she suffered herself, she would
understand and pity him. But now she would not or
(23:23):
could not find one word of comfort or love for
him in his dire extremity. The sense of his absolute
loneliness came home to his heart with a force that
made him shudder. He swayed and fell forward with his
face on the table, his arms stretched straight out, extended
and rigid. Nina made a quick movement towards her father
(23:43):
and stood looking at the gray head on the broad shoulders.
Shaken convulsively by the violence of feelings that found relief
at last in sobs and tears, Nina sighed deeply and
moved away from the table. Her features lost the appearance
of stony indifference that had exasperated her father into his
outburst of anger and sorrow. The expression of her face,
(24:05):
now unseen by her father, underwent a rapid change. She
had listened to all Meyer's appeal for sympathy for one
word of comfort, apparently indifferent, yet with her breast torn
by conflicting impulses raised unexpectedly by events she had not foreseen,
or at least did not expect to happen so soon,
With her heart deeply moved by the sight of Almeyer's misery,
(24:28):
knowing it in her power to end it with a word,
longing to bring peace to that troubled heart, she heard
with terror the voice of her overpowering love commanding her
to be silent, and she submitted. After a short and
fierce struggle of her old self against the new principle
of her life, she wrapped herself up in absolute silence,
the only safeguard against some fatal admission. She could not
(24:52):
trust herself to make a sign, to murmur a word,
for fear of saying too much. That the very violence
of the feelings that stirred the innermost recesses of her
soul seemed to turn her person into a stone. The
dilated nostrils and the flashing eyes were the only signs
of the storm raging within, and those signs of his
daughter's emotion, Almyer did not see, for his sight was
(25:16):
dim by self pity, by anger, and by despair. Had
Almeyer looked at his daughter as she leant over the
front rail of the veranda, he could have seen the
expression of indifference give way to a look of pain,
and that again pass away, leaving the glorious beauty of
her face marred by deep, drawn lines of watchful anxiety.
(25:37):
The long grass in the neglected courtyard stood very straight
before her eyes. In the noonday heat from the river bank.
There were voices and a shuffle of bare feet approaching
the house. Baba Lachi could be heard giving directions to
Allmyer's men and Missus. Allmyer's subdued wailing became audible as
the small procession, bearing the body of the drowned man
(25:58):
and headed by that south powful matron, turned the corner
of the house. Babolachi had taken the broken anklet off
the man's leg and now held it in his hand
as he moved by the side of the bears, while
Mama lingered behind timidly in the hopes of the promised reward.
Lay him there, said Babolachi to all Meyer's men, pointing
(26:19):
to a pile of drying planks in front of the
verandah lay him there. He was a kafir and the
son of a dog, and he was the white Man's friend.
He drank the white man's strong water. He added, with
affected horror, that I have seen myself. The men stretched
out the broken limbs on two planks they had laid level,
while Missus Almyer covered the body with a piece of
(26:41):
white cotton cloth, and, after whispering for some time with Babolachi,
departed to her domestic duties. All Myer's men, after laying
down their burden, dispersed themselves in quest of shady spots
wherein to idle the day away. Babolachi was left alone
by the corpse that laid rigid under the white cloth
in the bright sunshine. Nina came down the steps and
(27:05):
joined Babolachi, who put his hand to his forehead and
squat it down with great deference. You have a bangle, there,
said Nina, looking down on Babolachi's upturned face and into
his solitary eye. I have mempe Tu, returned the polite statesman.
Then turning towards Mahmat, he beckoned him closer, calling out
(27:26):
come here. Mahmat approached with some hesitation. He avoided looking
at Nina, but fixed his eyes on Babolachi. Now, listen,
said Babolachi, sharply. The ring and the anklet you have seen,
and you know they belonged to Deign the trader and
to no other. Dane returned last night in the canoe,
he spoke with the Rajah and in the middle of
(27:48):
the night left a cross over to the white Man's house.
There was a great flood, and this morning you found
him in the river by his feet. I dragged him out,
muttered Mahmat under his breath. Twan Babai, there will be
a recompense, he exclaimed aloud. Mabolachi held up the gold
bangle before Mahmat's eyes. What I have told you, Mamt,
(28:09):
is for all years. What I give you now is
for your eyes only. Take. Mamot took the bangle eagerly
and hid it in the folds of his waistcloth. Am
I a fool to show this thing in a house
with three women in it? He growled. But I shall
tell them about day in the traitor, and there will
be talking enough. He turned and went away, increasing his pace.
(28:31):
As soon as he was outside Almeyer's compound. Babolachi looked
after him till he disappeared behind the bushes. Have I
done well, mem pe tu, he asked, humbly, addressing Nina.
You have answered, Nina, the ring you may keep yourself.
Babolachi touched his lips and forehead and scrambled to his feet.
(28:52):
He looked at Nina as if expecting her to say
something more, but Nina turned towards the house and went
up the steps, motioning him away with her hand. Babolachi
picked up his staff and prepared to go. It was
very warm, and he did not care for the long
pull to the Raja's house. Yet he must go and
tell the Rajah, tell of the event of the change
(29:14):
in his plans, of all his suspicions. He walked to
the jetty and began casting off the retan painter of
his canoe. The broad expanse of the lower reach, with
its shimmering surface dotted by the black specks of the
fishing canoes, lay before his eyes. The fishermen seemed to
be racing. Babolachi paused in his work and looked on
(29:36):
with sudden interest. The man in the foremost canoe, now
within hail of the first houses of Sambir, laid in
his paddle and stood up, shouting the boats, the boats,
the men of War's boats are coming. They are here.
In a moment, the settlement was again alive, with people
rushing to the river side. The men began to unfasten
their boats. The women stood in groups, looking towards the
(29:59):
bend down the river. Above the trees lining the reach,
a slight puff of smoke appeared like a black stain
on the brilliant blue of the cloudless sky. Babolachi stood perplexed,
the painter in his hand. He looked down the reach,
then up towards Almayer's house, and back again at the river,
as if undecided what to do. At last, he made
(30:20):
the canoe fast again hastily, and ran towards the house
and up the steps of the Verandah twan twan. He
called eagerly. The boats are coming, the Man of War's boats.
You had better get ready. The officers will come here,
I know. Almeyer lifted his head slowly from the table
and looked at him stupidly. Mempu two, exclaimed Babolachi to Nina,
(30:42):
look at him. He does not hear. You must take care,
he added meaningly. Nina nodded to him with an uncertain
smile and was going to speak when a sharp report
from a gun mounted in the bow of the steam
launch that was just then coming into view arrested the
words on her parted lips. The smile died out and
was replaced by the old look of anxious attention from
(31:06):
the hills. Far away. The echo came back like a long,
drawn and mournful sigh, as if the land had sent
it in answer to the voice of its masters. End
of Chapter seven. Recording by Tom Weiss, Tom's audiobooks dot com.
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