“‘The trouble is,’ remarked Jim, moodily, ‘that for generations these beggars of fishermen in that village there had been considered as the Rajah’s personal slaves—and the old rip can’t get it into his head that…
“He paused. ‘That you have changed all that,’ I said.
“‘Yes. I’ve changed all that,’ he muttered in a gloomy voice.
“‘You have had your opportunity,’ I pursued.
“‘Had I?’ he said. ‘Well, yes. I suppose so. Yes, I have got back my confidence in myself—a good name—yet sometimes I wish…No! I shall hold what I’ve got. Can’t expect anything more.’ He flung his arm out towards the sea. ‘Not out there anyhow.’ He stamped his foot upon the sand. ‘This is my limit, because nothing less will do.’
“We continued pacing the beach. ‘Yes, I’ve changed all that,’ he went on, with a sidelong glance at the two patient squatting fishermen; ‘but only try to think what it would be if I went away. Jove! can’t you see it? Hell loose. No! To-morrow I shall go and take my chance of drinking that silly old Tunku Allang’s coffee, and I shall make no end of fuss over these rotten turtles’ eggs. No. I can’t say—enough. Never. I must go on, go on for ever holding up my end, to feel sure that nothing can touch me. I must stick to their belief in me to feel safe and to—to’…He cast about for a word, seemed to look for it on the sea ‘to keep in touch with’…His voice sank suddenly to a murmur…’with those whom, perhaps, I shall never see any more. With—with—you, for instance.’
“I was profoundly humbled by his words. ‘For God’s sake,’ I said, ‘don’t set me up, my dear fellow; just look to yourself.’ I felt a gratitude, an affection, for that straggler whose eyes had singled me out, keeping my place in the ranks of an insignificant multitude. How little that was to boast of, after all! I turned my burning face away; under the low sun, glowing, darkened and crimson, like an ember snatched from the fire, the sea lay outspread, offering all its immense stillness to the approach of the fiery orb. Twice he was going to speak, but checked himself: at last, as if he had found a formula—
“‘I shall be faithful,’ he said, quietly. ‘I shall be faithful,’ he repeated, without looking at me but for the first time letting his eyes wander upon the waters, whose blueness had changed to a gloomy purple under the fires of sunset. Ah! he was romantic, romantic. I recalled some words of Stein’s…’In the destructive element immerse!…To follow the dream, and again to follow the dream—and so—always—usque ad finem…’ He was romantic, but none the less true. Who could tell what forms, what visions, what faces, what forgiveness he could see in the glow of the west!…A small boat leaving the schooner, moved slowly, with a regular beat of two oars, towards the sandbank to take me off. ‘And then there’s Jewel,’ he said, out of the great silence of earth, sky, and sea, which had mastered my very thoughts so that his voice made me start. ‘There’s Jewel.’ ‘Yes,’ I murmured. ‘I need not tell you what she is to me,’ he pursued. ‘You’ve seen. In time she will come to understand…’ ‘I hope so,’ I interrupted. ‘She trusts me, too,’ he mused, and then changed his tone. ‘When shall we meet next, I wonder?’ he said.
“‘Never—unless you come out,’ I answered, avoiding his glance. He didn’t seem to be surprised; he kept very quiet for a while.
“‘Good-bye, then,’ he said, after a pause. ‘Perhaps it’s just as well.’
“We shook hands, and I walked to the boat, which waited with her nose on the beach. The schooner, her mainsail set and jib-sheet to windward, curveted on the purple sea; there was a rosy tinge on her sails. ‘Will you be going home again soon?’ asked Jim, just as I swung my leg over the gunwale. ‘In a year or so if I live,’ I said. The forefoot grated on the sand, the boat floated, the wet oars flashed and dipped once, twice. Jim, at the water’s edge, raised his voice. ‘Tell them…’ he began. I signed to the men to cease rowing, and waited in wonder. Tell who? The half-submerged sun faced him; I could see its red gleam in his eyes that looked dumbly at me…’No—nothing,’ he said, and with a slight wave of his hand motioned the boat away. I did not look again at the shore till I had clambered on board the schooner.