The camp was at last completed, and on a Saturday
afternoon all the heavier articles from the ship had
been transported to it. On the following Monday the
balance of the goods was to be sent on shore and the party
were to transfer their residence to their new quarters.

Late Sunday afternoon a small native boat was seen
rounding the point at the harbor's southern extremity,
and after a few minutes it drew alongside the Ithaca.
There were but three men in it--two Dyaks and a Malay.
The latter was a tall, well built man of middle age,
of a sullen and degraded countenance. His garmenture
was that of the ordinary Malay boatman, but there was
that in his mien and his attitude toward his companions
which belied his lowly habiliments.

In answer to von Horn's hail the man asked if he might
come aboard and trade; but once on the deck it developed
that he had not brought nothing wherewith to trade.
He seemed not the slightest disconcerted by this discovery,
stating that he would bring such articles as they wished
when he had learned what their requirements were.

The ubiquitous Sing was on hand during the interview,
but from his expressionless face none might guess what
was passing through the tortuous channels of his
Oriental mind. The Malay had been aboard nearly half
an hour talking with von Horn when the mate, Bududreen,
came on deck, and it was Sing alone who noted the