However, the evening passed off all right. Luckily, there is a degree of
bliss too intense for elation. Jasper was quiet and concentrated
silently in watching Freya. As we went on board our respective ships I
offered to give his brig a tow out next morning. I did it on purpose to
get him away at the earliest possible moment. So in the first cold light
of the dawn we passed by the gunboat lying black and still without a
sound in her at the mouth of the glassy cove. But with tropical
swiftness the sun had climbed twice its diameter above the horizon before
we had rounded the reef and got abreast of the point. On the biggest
boulder there stood Freya, all in white and, in her helmet, like a
feminine and martial statue with a rosy face, as I could see very well
with my glasses. She fluttered an expressive handkerchief, and Jasper,
running up the main rigging of the white and warlike brig, waved his hat
in response. Shortly afterwards we parted, I to the northward and Jasper
heading east with a light wind on the quarter, for Banjermassin and two
other ports, I believe it was, that trip.
This peaceful occasion was the last on which I saw all these people
assembled together; the charmingly fresh and resolute Freya, the
innocently round-eyed old Nelson, Jasper, keen, long limbed, lean faced,
admirably self-contained, in his manner, because inconceivably happy
under the eyes of his Freya; all three tall, fair, and blue-eyed in
varied shades, and amongst them the swarthy, arrogant, black-haired
Dutchman, shorter nearly by a head, and so much thicker than any of them
that he seemed to be a creature capable of inflating itself, a grotesque
specimen of mankind from some other planet.
The contrast struck me all at once as we stood in the lighted verandah,
after rising from the dinner-table. I was fascinated by it for the rest
of the evening, and I remember the impression of something funny and
ill-omened at the same time in it to this day.
CHAPTER III
A FEW weeks later, coming early one morning into Singapore, from a
journey to the southward, I saw the brig lying at anchor in all her usual
symmetry and splendour of aspect as though she had been taken out of a
glass case and put delicately into the water that very moment.
She was well out in the roadstead, but I steamed in and took up my
habitual berth close in front of the town. Before we had finished
breakfast a quarter-master came to tell me that Captain Allen’s boat was
coming our way.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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