“Look out then!  Lower away!”

Almayer gathered in the rope intelligently enough, but when the pony’s hoofs touched the wharf he gave way all at once to a most foolish optimism.  Without pausing, without thinking, almost without looking, he disengaged the hook suddenly from the sling, and the cargo-chain, after hitting the pony’s quarters, swung back against the ship’s side with a noisy, rattling slap.  I suppose I must have blinked.  I know I missed something, because the next thing I saw was Almayer lying flat on his back on the jetty.  He was alone.

Astonishment deprived me of speech long enough to give Almayer time to pick himself up in a leisurely and painful manner.  The kalashes lining the rail had all their mouths open.  The mist flew in the light breeze, and it had come over quite thick enough to hide the shore completely.

“How on earth did you manage to let him get away?” I asked scandalised.

Almayer looked into the smarting palm of his right hand, but did not answer my inquiry.

“Where do you think he will get to?” I cried.  “Are there any fences anywhere in this fog?  Can he bolt into the forest?  What’s to be done now?”

Almayer shrugged his shoulders.

“Some of my men are sure to be about.  They will get hold of him sooner or later.”

“Sooner or later!  That’s all very fine, but what about my canvas sling—­he’s carried it off.  I want it now, at once, to land two Celebes cows.”

Since Dongola we had on board a pair of the pretty little island cattle in addition to the pony.  Tied up on the other side of the fore deck they had been whisking their tails into the other door of the galley.  These cows were not for Almayer, however; they were invoiced to Abdullah bin Selim, his enemy.  Almayer’s disregard of my requisites was complete.

“If I were you I would try to find out where he’s gone,” I insisted.  “Hadn’t you better call your men together or something?  He will throw himself down and cut his knees.  He may even break a leg, you know.”

But Almayer, plunged in abstracted thought, did not seem to want that pony any more.  Amazed at this sudden indifference I turned all hands out on shore to hunt for him on my own account, or, at any rate, to hunt for the canvas sling which he had round his body.  The whole crew of the steamer, with the exception of firemen and engineers, rushed up the jetty past the thoughtful Almayer and vanished from my sight.  The white fog swallowed them up; and again there was a deep silence that seemed to extend for miles up and down the stream.  Still taciturn, Almayer started to climb on board, and I went down from the bridge to meet him on the after deck.

“Would you mind telling the captain that I want to see him very particularly?” he asked me in a low tone, letting his eyes stray all over the place.

“Very well.  I will go and see.”

With the door of his cabin wide open Captain C—­, just back from the bathroom, big and broad-chested, was brushing his thick, damp, iron-grey hair with two large brushes.