smoothly, fretting their outer ends into a brown whispering tumble of froth against the miry foot of each bank.
"I must," thought Sterne, "bring that brute Massy to his bearings. It's getting too absurd in the end. Here's the old man up there buried in his chair--he may just as well be in his grave for all the use he'll ever be in the world--and the Serang's in charge. Because that's what he is. In charge. In the place that's mine by rights. I must bring that savage brute to his bearings. I'll do it at once, too . . ."
When the mate made an abrupt start, a little brown half-naked boy, with large black eyes, and the string of a written charm round his neck, became panic-struck at once. He dropped the banana he had been munching, and ran to the knee of a grave dark Arab in flowing robes, sitting like a Biblical figure, incongruously, on a yellow tin trunk corded with a rope of twisted rattan. The father, unmoved, put out his hand to pat the little shaven poll protectingly.
XI.
Sterne crossed the deck upon the track of the chief engineer. Jack,
the second, retreating backwards down the engine-room ladder, and still
wiping his hands, treated him to an incomprehensible grin of white teeth
out of his grimy hard face; Massy was nowhere to be seen. He must have
gone straight into his berth. Sterne scratched at
