He was moving across a patch of burned grass, a blurred,
shadowy shape with the blurred bulk of a house behind him, a low house
of mats, bamboos, and palm leaves, with a high-pitched roof of grass.
He stepped upon the jetty. He was clad simply in flapping pajamas of
cretonne pattern (enormous flowers with yellow petals on a disagreeable
blue ground) and a thin cotton singlet with short sleeves. His arms,
bare to the elbow, were crossed on his chest. His black hair looked
as if it had not been cut for a very long time, and a curly wisp of
it strayed across his forehead. I had heard of him at Singapore; I had
heard of him on board; I had heard of him early in the morning and late
at night; I had heard of him at tiffin and at dinner; I had heard of
him in a place called Pulo Laut from a half-caste gentleman there, who
described himself as the manager of a coal-mine; which sounded civilized
and progressive till you heard that the mine could not be worked at
present because it was haunted by some particularly atrocious ghosts.
I had heard of him in a place called Dongola, in the Island of Celebes,
when the Rajah of that little-known seaport (you can get no anchorage
there in less than fifteen fathom, which is extremely inconvenient) came
on board in a friendly way, with only two attendants, and drank bottle
after bottle of soda-water on the after-sky light with my good friend
and commander, Captain C----.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126