"I am going there now," answered Dain, decisively. "The Orang Blanda will not be here before to-morrow night, perhaps, and Imust tell Almayer of our arrangements."
"No, Tuan. No; say nothing," protested Babalatchi. "I will go over myself at sunrise and let him know.""I will see," said Dain, preparing to go.
The thunderstorm was recommencing outside, the heavy clouds hanging low overhead now.
There was a constant rumble of distant thunder punctuated by the nearer sharp crashes, and in the continuous play of blue lightning the woods and the river showed fitfully, with all the elusive distinctness of detail characteristic of such a scene.
Outside the door of the Rajah's house Dain and Babalatchi stood on the shaking verandah as if dazed and stunned by the violence of the storm. They stood there amongst the cowering forms of the Rajah's slaves and retainers seeking shelter from the rain, and Dain called aloud to his boatmen, who responded with an unanimous "Ada! Tuan!" while they looked uneasily at the river.
"This is a great flood!" shouted Babalatchi into Dain's ear.
"The river is very angry. Look! Look at the drifting logs! Can you go?"Dain glanced doubtfully on the livid expanse of seething water bounded far away on the other side by the narrow black line of the forests. Suddenly, in a vivid white flash, the low point of land with the bending trees on it and Almayer's house, leaped into view, flickered and disappeared. Dain pushed Babalatchi aside and ran down to the water-gate followed by his shivering boatmen.
