"Have
I done well, Mem Putih?" he asked, humbly addressing Nina.
"You have," answered Nina. "The ring you may keep yourself."
Babalatchi touched his lips and forehead, and scrambled to his feet. 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.
Babalatchi picked up his staff and prepared to go. It was very warm, and
he did not care for the long pull to the Rajah's house. Yet he must go
and tell the Rajah--tell of the event; of the change in his plans; of all
his suspicions. He walked to the jetty and began casting off the rattan
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. Babalatchi paused in his work, and looked
on 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 man-of-war's boats are coming! They are
here!"
In a moment the settlement was again alive with people rushing to the
riverside. The men began to unfasten their boats, the women stood in
groups looking towards the bend down the river.
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