Jorgenson had been reflecting profoundly.  His object was to gain as much time as possible for Lingard’s interference which indeed could not fail to be effective.  But he had not the slightest wish to entrust himself to Tengga’s friendliness.  Not that he minded the risk; but he did not see the use of taking it.

“No!” he said, “I can’t go ashore.  We white men have ways of our own and I am chief of this hulk.  And my chief is the Rajah Laut, a white man like myself.  All the words that matter are in him and if Tengga is such a great chief let him ask the Rajah Laut for a talk.  Yes, that’s the proper thing for Tengga to do if he is such a great chief as he says.”

“The Rajah Laut has made his choice.  He dwells with Belarab, and with the white people who are huddled together like trapped deer in Belarab’s stockade.  Why shouldn’t you meantime go over where everything is lighted up and open and talk in friendship with Tengga’s friends, whose hearts have been made sick by many doubts; Rajah Hassim and the lady Immada and Daman, the chief of the men of the sea, who do not know now whom they can trust unless it be you, Tuan, the keeper of much wealth?”

The diplomatist in the small dugout paused for a moment to give special weight to the final argument: 

“Which you have no means to defend.  We know how many armed men there are with you.”

“They are great fighters,” Jorgenson observed, unconcernedly, spreading his elbows on the rail and looking over at the floating black patch of characteristic shape whence proceeded the voice of the wily envoy of Tengga.  “Each man of them is worth ten of such as you can find in the Settlement.”

“Yes, by Allah.  Even worth twenty of these common people.  Indeed, you have enough with you to make a great fight but not enough for victory.”

“God alone gives victory,” said suddenly the voice of Jaffir, who, very still at Jorgenson’s elbow, had been listening to the conversation.

“Very true,” was the answer in an extremely conventional tone.  “Will you come ashore, O white man; and be the leader of chiefs?”

“I have been that before,” said Jorgenson, with great dignity, “and now all I want is peace.  But I won’t come ashore amongst people whose minds are so much troubled, till Rajah Hassim and his sister return on board this ship and tell me the tale of their new friendship with Tengga.”

His heart was sinking with every minute, the very air was growing heavier with the sense of oncoming disaster, on that night that was neither war nor peace and whose only voice was the voice of Tengga’s envoy, insinuating in tone though menacing in words.

“No, that cannot be,” said that voice.  “But, Tuan, verily Tengga himself is ready to come on board here to talk with you.  He is very ready to come and indeed, Tuan, he means to come on board here before very long.”

“Yes, with fifty war-canoes filled with the ferocious rabble of the Shore of Refuge,” Jaffir was heard commenting, sarcastically, over the rail; and a sinister muttered “It may be so,” ascended alongside from the black water.