He opened his eyes in time to see through the archway of creepers the
bows of his brig come slowly into view, as the vessel drifted past on its
way down the river. He must go on board now, he thought; yet he was loth
to leave the place where he had learned to know what happiness meant.
"Time yet. Let them go," he muttered to himself; and he closed his eyes
again under the red shower of scented petals, trying to recall the scene
with all its delight and all its fear.

He must have been able to join his brig in time, after all, and found
much occupation outside, for it was in vain that Almayer looked for his
friend's speedy return. The lower reach of the river where he so often
and so impatiently directed his eyes remained deserted, save for the
rapid flitting of some fishing canoe; but down the upper reaches came
black clouds and heavy showers heralding the final setting in of the
rainy season with its thunderstorms and great floods making the river
almost impossible of ascent for native canoes.

Almayer, strolling along the muddy beach between his houses, watched
uneasily the river rising inch by inch, creeping slowly nearer to the
boats, now ready and hauled up in a row under the cover of dripping
Kajang-mats. Fortune seemed to elude his grasp, and in his weary tramp
backwards and forwards under the steady rain falling from the lowering
sky, a sort of despairing indifference took possession of him. What did
it matter? It was just his luck! Those two infernal savages, Lakamba
and Dain, induced him, with their promises of help, to spend his last
dollar in the fitting out of boats, and now one of them was gone
somewhere, and the other shut up in his stockade would give no sign of
life. No, not even the scoundrelly Babalatchi, thought Almayer, would
show his face near him, now they had sold him all the rice, brass gongs,
and cloth necessary for his expedition. They had his very last coin, and