Кінець рабства
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Therewasnotasignofaclearinganywhere;notatraceofhumanhabitation,exceptwheninoneplace,onthebareendofalowpointunderanisolatedgroupofslendertree-ferns,thejagged,tangledremnantsofanoldhutonpilesappearedwiththatpeculiaraspectofruinedbamboowallsthatlookasifsmashedwithaclub.Fartheron,halfhiddenunderthedroopingbushes,acanoecontainingamanandawoman,togetherwithadozengreencocoanutsinaheap,rockedhelplesslyaftertheSofalahadpassed,likeanavigatingcontrivanceofventuresomeinsects,oftravelingants;whiletwoglassyfoldsofwaterstreamingawayfromeachbowofthesteameracrossthewholewidthoftheriverranwithherupstreamsmoothly,frettingtheirouterendsintoabrownwhisperingtumbleoffrothagainstthemiryfootofeachbank.
“Imust,”thoughtSterne,“bringthatbruteMassytohisbearings.It’sgettingtooabsurdintheend.Here’stheoldmanupthereburiedinhischair—hemayjustaswellbeinhisgraveforalltheusehe’lleverbeintheworld—andtheSerang’sincharge.Becausethat’swhatheis.Incharge.Intheplacethat’sminebyrights.Imustbringthatsavagebrutetohisbearings.I’lldoitatonce,too...”
Whenthematemadeanabruptstart,alittlebrownhalf-nakedboy,withlargeblackeyes,andthestringofawrittencharmroundhisneck,becamepanic-struckatonce.Hedroppedthebananahehadbeenmunching,andrantothekneeofagravedarkArabinflowingrobes,sittinglikeaBiblicalfigure,incongruously,onayellowtintrunkcordedwitharopeoftwistedrattan
