The low exclamation, “Against those!” and a slight dismissing gesture of a meagre dark hand out of the folds of the cloak were almost understandable to Mrs. Travers in the perfection of their melancholy contempt, and gave Lingard a further insight into the character of the ally secured to him by the diplomacy of Belarab.  He was only half reassured by this assumption of superior detachment.  He trusted to the man’s self-interest more; for Daman no doubt looked to the reconquered kingdom for the reward of dignity and ease.  His father and grandfather (the men of whom Jorgenson had written as having been hanged for an example twelve years before) had been friends of Sultans, advisers of Rulers, wealthy financiers of the great raiding expeditions of the past.  It was hatred that had turned Daman into a self-made outcast, till Belarab’s diplomacy had drawn him out from some obscure and uneasy retreat.

In a few words Lingard assured Daman of the complete safety of his followers as long as they themselves made no attempt to get possession of the stranded yacht.  Lingard understood very well that the capture of Travers and d’Alcacer was the result of a sudden fear, a move directed by Daman to secure his own safety.  The sight of the stranded yacht shook his confidence completely.  It was as if the secrets of the place had been betrayed.  After all, it was perhaps a great folly to trust any white man, no matter how much he seemed estranged from his own people.  Daman felt he might have been the victim of a plot.  Lingard’s brig appeared to him a formidable engine of war.  He did not know what to think and the motive for getting hold of the two white men was really the wish to secure hostages.  Distrusting the fierce impulses of his followers he had hastened to put them into Belarab’s keeping.  But everything in the Settlement seemed to him suspicious:  Belarab’s absence, Jorgenson’s refusal to make over at once the promised supply of arms and ammunition.  And now that white man had by the power of his speech got them away from Belarab’s people.  So much influence filled Daman with wonder and awe.  A recluse for many years in the most obscure corner of the Archipelago he felt himself surrounded by intrigues.  But the alliance was a great thing, too.  He did not want to quarrel.  He was quite willing for the time being to accept Lingard’s assurance that no harm should befall his people encamped on the sandbanks.  Attentive and slight, he seemed to let Lingard’s deliberate words sink into him.  The force of that unarmed big man seemed overwhelming.  He bowed his head slowly.

“Allah is our refuge,” he murmured, accepting the inevitable.