this was enough to show the White Man that something was to be learned, seen,
or experienced by going to the deserted sailing boat at the rising of the moon.
The Malays who were with him feared a trap, and implored him not to go alone;
but the White Man did not fancy that treachery was likely just then, and, in any
case, he was anxious for the adventure, and could not afford to let his people
think that he was afraid. The man who, dwelling alone among Malays in an
unsettled country, shows the slightest trace of fear, signs his own death-warrant.
No people are more susceptible to 'bluff,' and, given a truculent bearing, and a
sufficiency of bravado, a coward may pass for a brave man in many a Malay
State.
The decks of the boat were wet with dew and drizzle, and she smelt abominably
of ancient fish cargoes which she had carried before she was beached. A light
rain was falling, and the White Man crept along the side until he reached the
stern, which was covered with a roofing of rotten palm-leaf mats. Through the
rents at the stern he could see the moon rising like a great red ball, throwing a
broad wave of dancing light along the reaches of the river. Then he squatted
down, rolled a cigarette, and awaited developments.
Presently the soft splish, whisp! splash, whisp! of a single paddle came to his
listening ear; and, a moment later, a girl's form, standing erect on the vessel's
side, showed distinctly in the growing moonlight. She called softly to know if
anybody was aboard, and the White Man answered equally cautiously. She then
turned and whispered to some unseen person in a boat moored alongside, and,
after some seconds, she came towards the White Man and said:
'There is one who would speak with thee, Tûan, but he cannot climb up the ship's
side. He is like a dead man—unless one lifts him, how can he move? Will the
Tûan, therefore, aid him to ascend into the ship?'
The White Man loosened his pistol in its holster, covertly, that she might not see,
and stepped cautiously to the place where the boat appeared to be moored, for
he, too, began to fear a trap. What he saw over the side reassured him. The dug-
out was of the smallest, and it had only one occupant. He was a man who, even
in the dim moonlight, showed the sharp angles of his bones. He had a peculiarly
drawn and shrunken look, and the skin was stretched across his hollow cheeks
like the goat-hide on a drum-face. The White Man leaped down into the boat,
and, aided by the girl, he lifted the man on board. Then, painfully and very
slowly, the latter crept aft, going on all fours like some unclean animal, until he