of each other at the very moment of the catastrophe which was to give them back to the claims of their life, at the cost of other lives sent violently out of the world.  D’Alcacer heard Lingard asking loudly for the long glass and saw Belarab make a sign with his hand, when he felt the earth receive a violent blow from underneath.  While he staggered to it the heavens split over his head with a crash in the lick of a red tongue of flame; and a sudden dreadful gloom fell all round the stunned d’Alcacer, who beheld with terror the morning sun, robbed of its rays, glow dull and brown through the sombre murk which had taken possession of the universe.  The Emma had blown up; and when the rain of shattered timbers and mangled corpses falling into the lagoon had ceased, the cloud of smoke hanging motionless under the livid sun cast its shadow afar on the Shore of Refuge where all strife had come to an end.

A great wail of terror ascended from the Settlement and was succeeded by a profound silence.  People could be seen bolting in unreasoning panic away from the houses and into the fields.  On the lagoon the raft of boats had broken up.  Some of them were sinking, others paddling away in all directions.  What was left above water of the Emma had burst into a clear flame under the shadow of the cloud, the great smoky cloud that hung solid and unstirring above the tops of the forest, visible for miles up and down the coast and over the Shallows.

The first person to recover inside the stockade was Belarab himself.  Mechanically he murmured the exclamation of wonder, “God is great,” and looked at Lingard.  But Lingard was not looking at him.  The shock of the explosion had robbed him of speech and movement.  He stared at the Emma blazing in a distant and insignificant flame under the sinister shadow of the cloud created by Jorgenson’s mistrust and contempt for the life of men.  Belarab turned away.  His opinion had changed.  He regarded Lingard no longer as a betrayed man but the effect was the same.  He was no longer a man of any importance.  What Belarab really wanted now was to see all the white people clear out of the lagoon as soon as possible.  Presently he ordered the gate to be thrown open and his armed men poured out to take possession of the Settlement.  Later Tengga’s houses were set on fire and Belarab, mounting a fiery pony, issued forth to make a triumphal progress surrounded by a great crowd of headmen and guards.

That night the white people left the stockade in a cortege of torch bearers.  Mr. Travers had to be carried down to the beach, where two of Belarab’s war-boats awaited their distinguished passengers.  Mrs. Travers passed through the gate on d’Alcacer’s arm.  Her face was half veiled.  She moved through the throng of spectators displayed in the torchlight looking straight before her.  Belarab, standing in front of a group of headmen, pretended not to see the white people as they went by.  With Lingard he shook hands, murmuring the usual formulas of friendship; and when he heard the great white man say, “You shall never see me again,” he felt immensely relieved.  Belarab did not want to see that white man again, but as he responded to the pressure of Lingard’s hand he had a grave smile.