Chapter 7 - Page 2

soft
bottom of the river and heaped up far out on the hard bottom of the sea,
was difficult to get over. The alluvial coast having no distinguishing
marks, the bearings of the crossing-place had to be taken from the shape
of the mountains inland. The guidance of a form flattened and uneven
at the top like a grinder tooth, and of another smooth, saddle-backed
summit, had to be searched for within the great unclouded glare that
seemed to shift and float like a dry fiery mist, filling the air,
ascending from the water, shrouding the distances, scorching to the eye.
In this veil of light the near edge of the shore alone stood out almost
coal-black with an opaque and motionless solidity. Thirty miles away
the serrated range of the interior stretched across the horizon, its
outlines and shades of blue, faint and tremulous like a background
painted on airy gossamer on the quivering fabric of an impalpable
curtain let down to the plain of alluvial soil; and the openings of the
estuary appeared, shining white, like bits of silver let into the square
pieces snipped clean and sharp out of the body of the land bordered with
mangroves.

On the forepart of the bridge the giant and the pigmy muttered to each
other frequently in quiet tones. Behind them Massy stood sideways with
an expression of disdain and suspense on his face. His globular eyes
were perfectly motionless, and he seemed to have forgotten the long pipe
he held in his hand.

On the fore-deck below the bridge, steeply roofed with the white slopes
of the awnings, a young lascar seaman had clambered outside the rail.
He adjusted quickly a broad band of sail canvas under his armpits,
and throwing his chest against it, leaned out far over the water. The
sleeves of his thin cotton shirt, cut off close to the shoulder,
bared his brown arm of full rounded form and with a satiny skin like a
woman's. He swung it rigidly with the rotary and menacing action of a
slinger: the 14-lb. weight hurtled circling in the air, then suddenly
flew ahead as far as the curve of the bow. The wet thin line swished
like scratched silk running through the dark fingers of the man, and
the plunge of the lead close to the ship's side made a vanishing silvery
scar upon the golden glitter; then after an interval the voice of the
young Malay uplifted and long-drawn declared the depth of the water in
his own language.

"Tiga stengah," he cried after each splash and pause, gathering the line
busily for another cast. "Tiga stengah," which means three fathom and a
half. For a mile or so from seaward there was a uniform depth of water
right up to the bar. "Half-three. Half-three. Half-three,"--and his
modulated cry, returned leisurely and monotonous, like