I was very anxious
to have him landed before I began to handle the cargo. Almayer remained
looking up at me for a long while, with incredulous and melancholy eyes,
as though it were not a safe thing to believe in my statement. This
pathetic mistrust in the favourable issue of any sort of affair touched
me deeply, and I added:
"He doesn't seem a bit the worse for the passage. He's a nice pony,
too."
Almayer was not to be cheered up; for all answer he cleared his throat
and looked down again at his feet. I tried to close with him on another
tack.
"By Jove!" I said. "Aren't you afraid of catching pneumonia or
bronchitis or some thing, walking about in a singlet in such a wet fog?"
He was not to be propitiated by a show of interest in his health.
His answer was a sinister "No fear," as much as to say that even that
way of escape from inclement fortune was closed to him.
"I just came down . . ." he mumbled after a while.
"Well, then, now you're here I will land that pony for you at once,
and you can lead him home. I really don't want him on deck. He's in the
way."
Almayer seemed doubtful. I insisted:
"Why, I will just swing him out and land him on the wharf right in front
of you.
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