finished_summaries/novelguide/Lord Jim/section_15_part_0.txt
Lord Jim.chapters 38-40
chapters 38-40
{"name": "Chapters 38-40", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210215030710/https://www.novelguide.com/lord-jim/summaries/chapter38-40", "summary": "Eight, Thirty Nine and Forty . The story of Jim's fate begins proper in Chapter Thirty Eight as the narrative returns to Brown, who is described as a 'latter day buccaneer', and to the time when he has stolen the Spanish schooner. He is described as tired of life and unafraid of death, but is 'in mortal fear of imprisonment'. . . After the theft, he and his crew are short of food and water and board several craft to steal from them. Brown does not dare to put into a port as the authorities may arrest him; he plans to go to Madagascar, but needs provisions to do so. He visits Patusan for this very reason. They take a long boat up the river and a shout goes up and cannons are fired. Brown and his men land 900 yards from the stockade and the chapter ends with them out of their boat and lying behind felled trees. Everything around them is described as still, dark and silent. . . In Chapter Thirty Nine, it is related that Jim is away in the interior at this point and Dain Waris leads the first repulse against these intruders. Jewel is in command of the Fort and cares for the refugees; she shows a 'martial ardour'. Dain Waris comes to her at once at the first signs of danger as Jim has the only store of gunpowder . The chief men are also there as they discuss what to do. They organize ways to get rid of Brown and messengers are sent to inform Jim of what is happening. In addition, Kassim opens up communications with Brown and takes Cornelius with him . After talking to Cornelius for half an hour, Brown's eyes are opened 'as to the home affairs of Patusan'. . . Kassim dislikes Doramin and the Bugis, 'but he hated the new order of things still more'. He thinks these men, together with the Rajah's followers, could attack and beat the Bugis before the return of Jim. Brown has only come to the area for food, rubber and some money, but after meeting Kassim he begins to think of stealing the whole country. Brown then pretends to have a big ship full of men at the mouth of the river. This chapter ends with Cornelius offering Brown what he calls 'friend's advice' and tells him about Jim: he says he only has to kill him and he will be king here. . . Brown tries to gain time 'by fooling with Kassim's diplomacy' in Chapter Forty. In truth, he believes Jim  is the only one to work with. Brown sees himself as offering Jim the power to take full control and that they would share in it. He sees them working as brothers, 'till the time came for a quarrel and a shot that would settle all accounts'. His machinations are clear when he orders one of his men to shoot at one of the Patusan inhabitants to put fear into the others and sends another of his men to the boat in order to draw the enemy's fire. . . People begin to feel like they should take sides and the social fabric is ready to collapse. Many in the upper classes think they should pay court to the Rajah and only Doramin keeps his countrymen together. . . Brown tells Marlow later that he would have left that night if his boat had been afloat as his men were outnumbered 200 to one. One of his men is shot and Cornelius translates a message from the Bugis informing him that there 'would be no faith, no compassion, no speech, no peace' between the Bugis and the white men on the hill. . . Towards dawn, drumbeat and cannon can be heard in town and Cornelius tells Brown that he  has come back. He then predicts Jim will come to Brown, as he is afraid of nothing. He also suggests Brown sends one of his men to kill Jim, as he will then have complete power. .", "analysis": "Eight, Thirty Nine and Forty . In Jim's absence, the outsiders disturb the peace and fabric of Patusan society. This serves to emphasize Jim's importance in the community, and is also a useful dramatic device for bringing about the novel's climax. Because of his absence, it is also possible to highlight the extent of Cornelius's treacherous impulses as he inveigles himself on Brown in order to enact revenge on Jim."}

'It all begins, as I've told you, with the man called Brown,' ran the
opening sentence of Marlow's narrative. 'You who have knocked about the
Western Pacific must have heard of him. He was the show ruffian on the
Australian coast--not that he was often to be seen there, but because
he was always trotted out in the stories of lawless life a visitor from
home is treated to; and the mildest of these stories which were told
about him from Cape York to Eden Bay was more than enough to hang a man
if told in the right place. They never failed to let you know, too,
that he was supposed to be the son of a baronet. Be it as it may, it is
certain he had deserted from a home ship in the early gold-digging days,
and in a few years became talked about as the terror of this or that
group of islands in Polynesia. He would kidnap natives, he would strip
some lonely white trader to the very pyjamas he stood in, and after he
had robbed the poor devil, he would as likely as not invite him to fight
a duel with shot-guns on the beach--which would have been fair enough
as these things go, if the other man hadn't been by that time already
half-dead with fright. Brown was a latter-day buccaneer, sorry enough,
like his more celebrated prototypes; but what distinguished him from
his contemporary brother ruffians, like Bully Hayes or the mellifluous
Pease, or that perfumed, Dundreary-whiskered, dandified scoundrel known
as Dirty Dick, was the arrogant temper of his misdeeds and a vehement
scorn for mankind at large and for his victims in particular. The
others were merely vulgar and greedy brutes, but he seemed moved by some
complex intention. He would rob a man as if only to demonstrate his poor
opinion of the creature, and he would bring to the shooting or maiming
of some quiet, unoffending stranger a savage and vengeful earnestness
fit to terrify the most reckless of desperadoes. In the days of his
greatest glory he owned an armed barque, manned by a mixed crew of
Kanakas and runaway whalers, and boasted, I don't know with what truth,
of being financed on the quiet by a most respectable firm of copra
merchants. Later on he ran off--it was reported--with the wife of a
missionary, a very young girl from Clapham way, who had married the
mild, flat-footed fellow in a moment of enthusiasm, and, suddenly
transplanted to Melanesia, lost her bearings somehow. It was a dark
story. She was ill at the time he carried her off, and died on board his
ship. It is said--as the most wonderful put of the tale--that over her
body he gave way to an outburst of sombre and violent grief. His luck
left him, too, very soon after. He lost his ship on some rocks off
Malaita, and disappeared for a time as though he had gone down with her.
He is heard of next at Nuka-Hiva, where he bought an old French schooner
out of Government service. What creditable enterprise he might have had
in view when he made that purchase I can't say, but it is evident that
what with High Commissioners, consuls, men-of-war, and international
control, the South Seas were getting too hot to hold gentlemen of his
kidney. Clearly he must have shifted the scene of his operations farther
west, because a year later he plays an incredibly audacious, but not a
very profitable part, in a serio-comic business in Manila Bay, in which
a peculating governor and an absconding treasurer are the principal
figures; thereafter he seems to have hung around the Philippines in his
rotten schooner battling with un adverse fortune, till at last, running
his appointed course, he sails into Jim's history, a blind accomplice of
the Dark Powers.

'His tale goes that when a Spanish patrol cutter captured him he was
simply trying to run a few guns for the insurgents. If so, then I can't
understand what he was doing off the south coast of Mindanao. My belief,
however, is that he was blackmailing the native villages along the
coast. The principal thing is that the cutter, throwing a guard on
board, made him sail in company towards Zamboanga. On the way, for some
reason or other, both vessels had to call at one of these new Spanish
settlements--which never came to anything in the end--where there was
not only a civil official in charge on shore, but a good stout coasting
schooner lying at anchor in the little bay; and this craft, in every way
much better than his own, Brown made up his mind to steal.

'He was down on his luck--as he told me himself. The world he had
bullied for twenty years with fierce, aggressive disdain, had yielded
him nothing in the way of material advantage except a small bag of
silver dollars, which was concealed in his cabin so that "the devil
himself couldn't smell it out." And that was all--absolutely all. He
was tired of his life, and not afraid of death. But this man, who would
stake his existence on a whim with a bitter and jeering recklessness,
stood in mortal fear of imprisonment. He had an unreasoning cold-sweat,
nerve-shaking, blood-to-water-turning sort of horror at the bare
possibility of being locked up--the sort of terror a superstitious man
would feel at the thought of being embraced by a spectre. Therefore the
civil official who came on board to make a preliminary investigation
into the capture, investigated arduously all day long, and only went
ashore after dark, muffled up in a cloak, and taking great care not to
let Brown's little all clink in its bag. Afterwards, being a man of his
word, he contrived (the very next evening, I believe) to send off
the Government cutter on some urgent bit of special service. As her
commander could not spare a prize crew, he contented himself by taking
away before he left all the sails of Brown's schooner to the very last
rag, and took good care to tow his two boats on to the beach a couple of
miles off.

'But in Brown's crew there was a Solomon Islander, kidnapped in his
youth and devoted to Brown, who was the best man of the whole gang. That
fellow swam off to the coaster--five hundred yards or so--with the end
of a warp made up of all the running gear unrove for the purpose. The
water was smooth, and the bay dark, "like the inside of a cow," as Brown
described it. The Solomon Islander clambered over the bulwarks with the
end of the rope in his teeth. The crew of the coaster--all Tagals--were
ashore having a jollification in the native village. The two shipkeepers
left on board woke up suddenly and saw the devil. It had glittering eyes
and leaped quick as lightning about the deck. They fell on their knees,
paralysed with fear, crossing themselves and mumbling prayers. With
a long knife he found in the caboose the Solomon Islander, without
interrupting their orisons, stabbed first one, then the other; with the
same knife he set to sawing patiently at the coir cable till suddenly it
parted under the blade with a splash. Then in the silence of the bay
he let out a cautious shout, and Brown's gang, who meantime had been
peering and straining their hopeful ears in the darkness, began to
pull gently at their end of the warp. In less than five minutes the two
schooners came together with a slight shock and a creak of spars.

'Brown's crowd transferred themselves without losing an instant, taking
with them their firearms and a large supply of ammunition. They were
sixteen in all: two runaway blue-jackets, a lanky deserter from a Yankee
man-of-war, a couple of simple, blond Scandinavians, a mulatto of sorts,
one bland Chinaman who cooked--and the rest of the nondescript spawn
of the South Seas. None of them cared; Brown bent them to his will, and
Brown, indifferent to gallows, was running away from the spectre of
a Spanish prison. He didn't give them the time to trans-ship enough
provisions; the weather was calm, the air was charged with dew, and when
they cast off the ropes and set sail to a faint off-shore draught there
was no flutter in the damp canvas; their old schooner seemed to detach
itself gently from the stolen craft and slip away silently, together
with the black mass of the coast, into the night.

'They got clear away. Brown related to me in detail their passage down
the Straits of Macassar. It is a harrowing and desperate story. They
were short of food and water; they boarded several native craft and got
a little from each. With a stolen ship Brown did not dare to put into
any port, of course. He had no money to buy anything, no papers to show,
and no lie plausible enough to get him out again. An Arab barque, under
the Dutch flag, surprised one night at anchor off Poulo Laut, yielded a
little dirty rice, a bunch of bananas, and a cask of water; three days
of squally, misty weather from the north-east shot the schooner across
the Java Sea. The yellow muddy waves drenched that collection of hungry
ruffians. They sighted mail-boats moving on their appointed routes;
passed well-found home ships with rusty iron sides anchored in the
shallow sea waiting for a change of weather or the turn of the tide; an
English gunboat, white and trim, with two slim masts, crossed their bows
one day in the distance; and on another occasion a Dutch corvette, black
and heavily sparred, loomed up on their quarter, steaming dead slow
in the mist. They slipped through unseen or disregarded, a wan,
sallow-faced band of utter outcasts, enraged with hunger and hunted by
fear. Brown's idea was to make for Madagascar, where he expected, on
grounds not altogether illusory, to sell the schooner in Tamatave, and
no questions asked, or perhaps obtain some more or less forged papers
for her. Yet before he could face the long passage across the Indian
Ocean food was wanted--water too.

'Perhaps he had heard of Patusan--or perhaps he just only happened to
see the name written in small letters on the chart--probably that of a
largish village up a river in a native state, perfectly defenceless, far
from the beaten tracks of the sea and from the ends of submarine cables.
He had done that kind of thing before--in the way of business;
and this now was an absolute necessity, a question of life and
death--or rather of liberty. Of liberty! He was sure to get
provisions--bullocks--rice--sweet-potatoes. The sorry gang licked
their chops. A cargo of produce for the schooner perhaps could be
extorted--and, who knows?--some real ringing coined money! Some of these
chiefs and village headmen can be made to part freely. He told me he
would have roasted their toes rather than be baulked. I believe him. His
men believed him too. They didn't cheer aloud, being a dumb pack, but
made ready wolfishly.

'Luck served him as to weather. A few days of calm would have brought
unmentionable horrors on board that schooner, but with the help of land
and sea breezes, in less than a week after clearing the Sunda Straits,
he anchored off the Batu Kring mouth within a pistol-shot of the fishing
village.

'Fourteen of them packed into the schooner's long-boat (which was big,
having been used for cargo-work) and started up the river, while two
remained in charge of the schooner with food enough to keep starvation
off for ten days. The tide and wind helped, and early one afternoon the
big white boat under a ragged sail shouldered its way before the sea
breeze into Patusan Reach, manned by fourteen assorted scarecrows
glaring hungrily ahead, and fingering the breech-blocks of cheap rifles.
Brown calculated upon the terrifying surprise of his appearance. They
sailed in with the last of the flood; the Rajah's stockade gave no sign;
the first houses on both sides of the stream seemed deserted. A few
canoes were seen up the reach in full flight. Brown was astonished at
the size of the place. A profound silence reigned. The wind dropped
between the houses; two oars were got out and the boat held on
up-stream, the idea being to effect a lodgment in the centre of the town
before the inhabitants could think of resistance.

'It seems, however, that the headman of the fishing village at Batu
Kring had managed to send off a timely warning. When the long-boat came
abreast of the mosque (which Doramin had built: a structure with gables
and roof finials of carved coral) the open space before it was full of
people. A shout went up, and was followed by a clash of gongs all up the
river. From a point above two little brass 6-pounders were discharged,
and the round-shot came skipping down the empty reach, spurting
glittering jets of water in the sunshine. In front of the mosque a
shouting lot of men began firing in volleys that whipped athwart the
current of the river; an irregular, rolling fusillade was opened on the
boat from both banks, and Brown's men replied with a wild, rapid fire.
The oars had been got in.

'The turn of the tide at high water comes on very quickly in that river,
and the boat in mid-stream, nearly hidden in smoke, began to drift back
stern foremost. Along both shores the smoke thickened also, lying below
the roofs in a level streak as you may see a long cloud cutting the
slope of a mountain. A tumult of war-cries, the vibrating clang
of gongs, the deep snoring of drums, yells of rage, crashes of
volley-firing, made an awful din, in which Brown sat confounded but
steady at the tiller, working himself into a fury of hate and rage
against those people who dared to defend themselves. Two of his men
had been wounded, and he saw his retreat cut off below the town by some
boats that had put off from Tunku Allang's stockade. There were six of
them, full of men. While he was thus beset he perceived the entrance of
the narrow creek (the same which Jim had jumped at low water). It was
then brim full. Steering the long-boat in, they landed, and, to make a
long story short, they established themselves on a little knoll about
900 yards from the stockade, which, in fact, they commanded from that
position. The slopes of the knoll were bare, but there were a few trees
on the summit. They went to work cutting these down for a breastwork,
and were fairly intrenched before dark; meantime the Rajah's boats
remained in the river with curious neutrality. When the sun set the glue
of many brushwood blazes lighted on the river-front, and between the
double line of houses on the land side threw into black relief the
roofs, the groups of slender palms, the heavy clumps of fruit trees.
Brown ordered the grass round his position to be fired; a low ring of
thin flames under the slow ascending smoke wriggled rapidly down the
slopes of the knoll; here and there a dry bush caught with a tall,
vicious roar. The conflagration made a clear zone of fire for the rifles
of the small party, and expired smouldering on the edge of the forests
and along the muddy bank of the creek. A strip of jungle luxuriating in
a damp hollow between the knoll and the Rajah's stockade stopped it
on that side with a great crackling and detonations of bursting bamboo
stems. The sky was sombre, velvety, and swarming with stars. The
blackened ground smoked quietly with low creeping wisps, till a little
breeze came on and blew everything away. Brown expected an attack to
be delivered as soon as the tide had flowed enough again to enable the
war-boats which had cut off his retreat to enter the creek. At any rate
he was sure there would be an attempt to carry off his long-boat,
which lay below the hill, a dark high lump on the feeble sheen of a wet
mud-flat. But no move of any sort was made by the boats in the river.
Over the stockade and the Rajah's buildings Brown saw their lights on
the water. They seemed to be anchored across the stream. Other lights
afloat were moving in the reach, crossing and recrossing from side to
side. There were also lights twinkling motionless upon the long walls of
houses up the reach, as far as the bend, and more still beyond, others
isolated inland. The loom of the big fires disclosed buildings, roofs,
black piles as far as he could see. It was an immense place. The
fourteen desperate invaders lying flat behind the felled trees raised
their chins to look over at the stir of that town that seemed to extend
up-river for miles and swarm with thousands of angry men. They did not
speak to each other. Now and then they would hear a loud yell, or a
single shot rang out, fired very far somewhere. But round their position
everything was still, dark, silent. They seemed to be forgotten, as if
the excitement keeping awake all the population had nothing to do with
them, as if they had been dead already.'
'All the events of that night have a great importance, since they
brought about a situation which remained unchanged till Jim's return.
Jim had been away in the interior for more than a week, and it was Dain
Waris who had directed the first repulse. That brave and intelligent
youth ("who knew how to fight after the manner of white men") wished to
settle the business off-hand, but his people were too much for him.
He had not Jim's racial prestige and the reputation of invincible,
supernatural power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of
unfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and
admired as he was, he was still one of _them_, while Jim was one of
us. Moreover, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was
invulnerable, while Dain Waris could be killed. Those unexpressed
thoughts guided the opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected
to assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if
expecting to find wisdom and courage in the dwelling of the absent white
man. The shooting of Brown's ruffians was so far good, or lucky, that
there had been half-a-dozen casualties amongst the defenders. The
wounded were lying on the verandah tended by their women-folk. The women
and children from the lower part of the town had been sent into the
fort at the first alarm. There Jewel was in command, very efficient and
high-spirited, obeyed by Jim's "own people," who, quitting in a body
their little settlement under the stockade, had gone in to form the
garrison. The refugees crowded round her; and through the whole affair,
to the very disastrous last, she showed an extraordinary martial ardour.
It was to her that Dain Waris had gone at once at the first intelligence
of danger, for you must know that Jim was the only one in Patusan who
possessed a store of gunpowder. Stein, with whom he had kept up intimate
relations by letters, had obtained from the Dutch Government a special
authorisation to export five hundred kegs of it to Patusan. The
powder-magazine was a small hut of rough logs covered entirely with
earth, and in Jim's absence the girl had the key. In the council, held
at eleven o'clock in the evening in Jim's dining-room, she backed up
Waris's advice for immediate and vigorous action. I am told that she
stood up by the side of Jim's empty chair at the head of the long table
and made a warlike impassioned speech, which for the moment extorted
murmurs of approbation from the assembled headmen. Old Doramin, who had
not showed himself outside his own gate for more than a year, had been
brought across with great difficulty. He was, of course, the chief man
there. The temper of the council was very unforgiving, and the old man's
word would have been decisive; but it is my opinion that, well aware of
his son's fiery courage, he dared not pronounce the word. More dilatory
counsels prevailed. A certain Haji Saman pointed out at great length
that "these tyrannical and ferocious men had delivered themselves to
a certain death in any case. They would stand fast on their hill and
starve, or they would try to regain their boat and be shot from ambushes
across the creek, or they would break and fly into the forest and perish
singly there." He argued that by the use of proper stratagems these
evil-minded strangers could be destroyed without the risk of a battle,
and his words had a great weight, especially with the Patusan men
proper. What unsettled the minds of the townsfolk was the failure of
the Rajah's boats to act at the decisive moment. It was the diplomatic
Kassim who represented the Rajah at the council. He spoke very little,
listened smilingly, very friendly and impenetrable. During the sitting
messengers kept arriving every few minutes almost, with reports of the
invaders' proceedings. Wild and exaggerated rumours were flying: there
was a large ship at the mouth of the river with big guns and many more
men--some white, others with black skins and of bloodthirsty appearance.
They were coming with many more boats to exterminate every living thing.
A sense of near, incomprehensible danger affected the common people.
At one moment there was a panic in the courtyard amongst the women;
shrieking; a rush; children crying--Haji Sunan went out to quiet them.
Then a fort sentry fired at something moving on the river, and nearly
killed a villager bringing in his women-folk in a canoe together with
the best of his domestic utensils and a dozen fowls. This caused more
confusion. Meantime the palaver inside Jim's house went on in the
presence of the girl. Doramin sat fierce-faced, heavy, looking at the
speakers in turn, and breathing slow like a bull. He didn't speak till
the last, after Kassim had declared that the Rajah's boats would be
called in because the men were required to defend his master's stockade.
Dain Waris in his father's presence would offer no opinion, though the
girl entreated him in Jim's name to speak out. She offered him Jim's own
men in her anxiety to have these intruders driven out at once. He only
shook his head, after a glance or two at Doramin. Finally, when the
council broke up it had been decided that the houses nearest the creek
should be strongly occupied to obtain the command of the enemy's boat.
The boat itself was not to be interfered with openly, so that the
robbers on the hill should be tempted to embark, when a well-directed
fire would kill most of them, no doubt. To cut off the escape of those
who might survive, and to prevent more of them coming up, Dain Waris was
ordered by Doramin to take an armed party of Bugis down the river to a
certain spot ten miles below Patusan, and there form a camp on the shore
and blockade the stream with the canoes. I don't believe for a moment
that Doramin feared the arrival of fresh forces. My opinion is that his
conduct was guided solely by his wish to keep his son out of harm's
way. To prevent a rush being made into the town the construction of a
stockade was to be commenced at daylight at the end of the street on
the left bank. The old nakhoda declared his intention to command there
himself. A distribution of powder, bullets, and percussion-caps was made
immediately under the girl's supervision. Several messengers were to be
dispatched in different directions after Jim, whose exact whereabouts
were unknown. These men started at dawn, but before that time Kassim had
managed to open communications with the besieged Brown.

'That accomplished diplomatist and confidant of the Rajah, on leaving
the fort to go back to his master, took into his boat Cornelius, whom he
found slinking mutely amongst the people in the courtyard. Kassim had a
little plan of his own and wanted him for an interpreter. Thus it came
about that towards morning Brown, reflecting upon the desperate nature
of his position, heard from the marshy overgrown hollow an amicable,
quavering, strained voice crying--in English--for permission to come up,
under a promise of personal safety and on a very important errand. He
was overjoyed. If he was spoken to he was no longer a hunted wild beast.
These friendly sounds took off at once the awful stress of vigilant
watchfulness as of so many blind men not knowing whence the deathblow
might come. He pretended a great reluctance. The voice declared itself
"a white man--a poor, ruined, old man who had been living here for
years." A mist, wet and chilly, lay on the slopes of the hill, and after
some more shouting from one to the other, Brown called out, "Come on,
then, but alone, mind!" As a matter of fact--he told me, writhing with
rage at the recollection of his helplessness--it made no difference.
They couldn't see more than a few yards before them, and no treachery
could make their position worse. By-and-by Cornelius, in his
week-day attire of a ragged dirty shirt and pants, barefooted, with a
broken-rimmed pith hat on his head, was made out vaguely, sidling up to
the defences, hesitating, stopping to listen in a peering posture. "Come
along! You are safe," yelled Brown, while his men stared. All their
hopes of life became suddenly centered in that dilapidated, mean
newcomer, who in profound silence clambered clumsily over a felled
tree-trunk, and shivering, with his sour, mistrustful face, looked about
at the knot of bearded, anxious, sleepless desperadoes.

'Half an hour's confidential talk with Cornelius opened Brown's eyes as
to the home affairs of Patusan. He was on the alert at once. There were
possibilities, immense possibilities; but before he would talk over
Cornelius's proposals he demanded that some food should be sent up as
a guarantee of good faith. Cornelius went off, creeping sluggishly down
the hill on the side of the Rajah's palace, and after some delay a
few of Tunku Allang's men came up, bringing a scanty supply of rice,
chillies, and dried fish. This was immeasurably better than nothing.
Later on Cornelius returned accompanying Kassim, who stepped out with
an air of perfect good-humoured trustfulness, in sandals, and muffled
up from neck to ankles in dark-blue sheeting. He shook hands with Brown
discreetly, and the three drew aside for a conference. Brown's men,
recovering their confidence, were slapping each other on the back, and
cast knowing glances at their captain while they busied themselves with
preparations for cooking.

'Kassim disliked Doramin and his Bugis very much, but he hated the new
order of things still more. It had occurred to him that these whites,
together with the Rajah's followers, could attack and defeat the
Bugis before Jim's return. Then, he reasoned, general defection of
the townsfolk was sure to follow, and the reign of the white man who
protected poor people would be over. Afterwards the new allies could be
dealt with. They would have no friends. The fellow was perfectly able to
perceive the difference of character, and had seen enough of white men
to know that these newcomers were outcasts, men without country.
Brown preserved a stern and inscrutable demeanour. When he first heard
Cornelius's voice demanding admittance, it brought merely the hope of a
loophole for escape. In less than an hour other thoughts were seething
in his head. Urged by an extreme necessity, he had come there to steal
food, a few tons of rubber or gum may be, perhaps a handful of dollars,
and had found himself enmeshed by deadly dangers. Now in consequence
of these overtures from Kassim he began to think of stealing the whole
country. Some confounded fellow had apparently accomplished something of
the kind--single-handed at that. Couldn't have done it very well though.
Perhaps they could work together--squeeze everything dry and then go out
quietly. In the course of his negotiations with Kassim he became aware
that he was supposed to have a big ship with plenty of men outside.
Kassim begged him earnestly to have this big ship with his many guns and
men brought up the river without delay for the Rajah's service. Brown
professed himself willing, and on this basis the negotiation was carried
on with mutual distrust. Three times in the course of the morning the
courteous and active Kassim went down to consult the Rajah and came up
busily with his long stride. Brown, while bargaining, had a sort of grim
enjoyment in thinking of his wretched schooner, with nothing but a heap
of dirt in her hold, that stood for an armed ship, and a Chinaman and
a lame ex-beachcomber of Levuka on board, who represented all his many
men. In the afternoon he obtained further doles of food, a promise
of some money, and a supply of mats for his men to make shelters
for themselves. They lay down and snored, protected from the burning
sunshine; but Brown, sitting fully exposed on one of the felled trees,
feasted his eyes upon the view of the town and the river. There was much
loot there. Cornelius, who had made himself at home in the camp, talked
at his elbow, pointing out the localities, imparting advice, giving his
own version of Jim's character, and commenting in his own fashion upon
the events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent
and gazing away, listened with attention to every word, could not make
out clearly what sort of man this Jim could be. "What's his name?
Jim! Jim! That's not enough for a man's name." "They call him," said
Cornelius scornfully, "Tuan Jim here. As you may say Lord Jim." "What is
he? Where does he come from?" inquired Brown. "What sort of man is he?
Is he an Englishman?" "Yes, yes, he's an Englishman. I am an Englishman
too. From Malacca. He is a fool. All you have to do is to kill him and
then you are king here. Everything belongs to him," explained Cornelius.
"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,"
commented Brown half aloud. "No, no. The proper way is to kill him the
first chance you get, and then you can do what you like," Cornelius
would insist earnestly. "I have lived for many years here, and I am
giving you a friend's advice."

'In such converse and in gloating over the view of Patusan, which he had
determined in his mind should become his prey, Brown whiled away most
of the afternoon, his men, meantime, resting. On that day Dain Waris's
fleet of canoes stole one by one under the shore farthest from the
creek, and went down to close the river against his retreat. Of this
Brown was not aware, and Kassim, who came up the knoll an hour before
sunset, took good care not to enlighten him. He wanted the white
man's ship to come up the river, and this news, he feared, would be
discouraging. He was very pressing with Brown to send the "order,"
offering at the same time a trusty messenger, who for greater secrecy
(as he explained) would make his way by land to the mouth of the river
and deliver the "order" on board. After some reflection Brown judged
it expedient to tear a page out of his pocket-book, on which he simply
wrote, "We are getting on. Big job. Detain the man." The stolid youth
selected by Kassim for that service performed it faithfully, and was
rewarded by being suddenly tipped, head first, into the schooner's empty
hold by the ex-beachcomber and the Chinaman, who thereupon hastened to
put on the hatches. What became of him afterwards Brown did not say.'


'Brown's object was to gain time by fooling with Kassim's diplomacy. For
doing a real stroke of business he could not help thinking the white man
was the person to work with. He could not imagine such a chap (who must
be confoundedly clever after all to get hold of the natives like
that) refusing a help that would do away with the necessity for slow,
cautious, risky cheating, that imposed itself as the only possible
line of conduct for a single-handed man. He, Brown, would offer him
the power. No man could hesitate. Everything was in coming to a clear
understanding. Of course they would share. The idea of there being a
fort--all ready to his hand--a real fort, with artillery (he knew this
from Cornelius), excited him. Let him only once get in and . . . He
would impose modest conditions. Not too low, though. The man was no
fool, it seemed. They would work like brothers till . . . till the time
came for a quarrel and a shot that would settle all accounts. With grim
impatience of plunder he wished himself to be talking with the man now.
The land already seemed to be his to tear to pieces, squeeze, and throw
away. Meantime Kassim had to be fooled for the sake of food first--and
for a second string. But the principal thing was to get something to eat
from day to day. Besides, he was not averse to begin fighting on that
Rajah's account, and teach a lesson to those people who had received him
with shots. The lust of battle was upon him.

'I am sorry that I can't give you this part of the story, which of
course I have mainly from Brown, in Brown's own words. There was in the
broken, violent speech of that man, unveiling before me his thoughts
with the very hand of Death upon his throat, an undisguised ruthlessness
of purpose, a strange vengeful attitude towards his own past, and a
blind belief in the righteousness of his will against all mankind,
something of that feeling which could induce the leader of a horde of
wandering cut-throats to call himself proudly the Scourge of God.
No doubt the natural senseless ferocity which is the basis of such
a character was exasperated by failure, ill-luck, and the recent
privations, as well as by the desperate position in which he found
himself; but what was most remarkable of all was this, that while he
planned treacherous alliances, had already settled in his own mind the
fate of the white man, and intrigued in an overbearing, offhand manner
with Kassim, one could perceive that what he had really desired, almost
in spite of himself, was to play havoc with that jungle town which had
defied him, to see it strewn over with corpses and enveloped in flames.
Listening to his pitiless, panting voice, I could imagine how he must
have looked at it from the hillock, peopling it with images of murder
and rapine. The part nearest to the creek wore an abandoned aspect,
though as a matter of fact every house concealed a few armed men on the
alert. Suddenly beyond the stretch of waste ground, interspersed with
small patches of low dense bush, excavations, heaps of rubbish, with
trodden paths between, a man, solitary and looking very small, strolled
out into the deserted opening of the street between the shut-up, dark,
lifeless buildings at the end. Perhaps one of the inhabitants, who had
fled to the other bank of the river, coming back for some object of
domestic use. Evidently he supposed himself quite safe at that distance
from the hill on the other side of the creek. A light stockade, set up
hastily, was just round the turn of the street, full of his friends.
He moved leisurely. Brown saw him, and instantly called to his side the
Yankee deserter, who acted as a sort of second in command. This lanky,
loose-jointed fellow came forward, wooden-faced, trailing his rifle
lazily. When he understood what was wanted from him a homicidal and
conceited smile uncovered his teeth, making two deep folds down his
sallow, leathery cheeks. He prided himself on being a dead shot. He
dropped on one knee, and taking aim from a steady rest through the
unlopped branches of a felled tree, fired, and at once stood up to look.
The man, far away, turned his head to the report, made another step
forward, seemed to hesitate, and abruptly got down on his hands and
knees. In the silence that fell upon the sharp crack of the rifle, the
dead shot, keeping his eyes fixed upon the quarry, guessed that "this
there coon's health would never be a source of anxiety to his friends
any more." The man's limbs were seen to move rapidly under his body
in an endeavour to run on all-fours. In that empty space arose a
multitudinous shout of dismay and surprise. The man sank flat, face
down, and moved no more. "That showed them what we could do," said Brown
to me. "Struck the fear of sudden death into them. That was what we
wanted. They were two hundred to one, and this gave them something to
think over for the night. Not one of them had an idea of such a long
shot before. That beggar belonging to the Rajah scooted down-hill with
his eyes hanging out of his head."

'As he was telling me this he tried with a shaking hand to wipe the thin
foam on his blue lips. "Two hundred to one. Two hundred to one . . .
strike terror, . . . terror, terror, I tell you. . . ." His own eyes
were starting out of their sockets. He fell back, clawing the air with
skinny fingers, sat up again, bowed and hairy, glared at me sideways
like some man-beast of folk-lore, with open mouth in his miserable and
awful agony before he got his speech back after that fit. There are
sights one never forgets.

'Furthermore, to draw the enemy's fire and locate such parties as
might have been hiding in the bushes along the creek, Brown ordered the
Solomon Islander to go down to the boat and bring an oar, as you send a
spaniel after a stick into the water. This failed, and the fellow came
back without a single shot having been fired at him from anywhere.
"There's nobody," opined some of the men. It is "onnatural," remarked
the Yankee. Kassim had gone, by that time, very much impressed, pleased
too, and also uneasy. Pursuing his tortuous policy, he had dispatched a
message to Dain Waris warning him to look out for the white men's
ship, which, he had had information, was about to come up the river.
He minimised its strength and exhorted him to oppose its passage. This
double-dealing answered his purpose, which was to keep the Bugis forces
divided and to weaken them by fighting. On the other hand, he had in
the course of that day sent word to the assembled Bugis chiefs in town,
assuring them that he was trying to induce the invaders to retire; his
messages to the fort asked earnestly for powder for the Rajah's men. It
was a long time since Tunku Allang had had ammunition for the score or
so of old muskets rusting in their arm-racks in the audience-hall.
The open intercourse between the hill and the palace unsettled all the
minds. It was already time for men to take sides, it began to be said.
There would soon be much bloodshed, and thereafter great trouble for
many people. The social fabric of orderly, peaceful life, when every man
was sure of to-morrow, the edifice raised by Jim's hands, seemed on that
evening ready to collapse into a ruin reeking with blood. The poorer
folk were already taking to the bush or flying up the river. A good many
of the upper class judged it necessary to go and pay their court to the
Rajah. The Rajah's youths jostled them rudely. Old Tunku Allang, almost
out of his mind with fear and indecision, either kept a sullen silence
or abused them violently for daring to come with empty hands: they
departed very much frightened; only old Doramin kept his countrymen
together and pursued his tactics inflexibly. Enthroned in a big chair
behind the improvised stockade, he issued his orders in a deep veiled
rumble, unmoved, like a deaf man, in the flying rumours.

'Dusk fell, hiding first the body of the dead man, which had been left
lying with arms outstretched as if nailed to the ground, and then the
revolving sphere of the night rolled smoothly over Patusan and came to
a rest, showering the glitter of countless worlds upon the earth. Again,
in the exposed part of the town big fires blazed along the only street,
revealing from distance to distance upon their glares the falling
straight lines of roofs, the fragments of wattled walls jumbled in
confusion, here and there a whole hut elevated in the glow upon the
vertical black stripes of a group of high piles and all this line of
dwellings, revealed in patches by the swaying flames, seemed to flicker
tortuously away up-river into the gloom at the heart of the land. A
great silence, in which the looms of successive fires played without
noise, extended into the darkness at the foot of the hill; but the
other bank of the river, all dark save for a solitary bonfire at the
river-front before the fort, sent out into the air an increasing tremor
that might have been the stamping of a multitude of feet, the hum of
many voices, or the fall of an immensely distant waterfall. It was
then, Brown confessed to me, while, turning his back on his men, he sat
looking at it all, that notwithstanding his disdain, his ruthless faith
in himself, a feeling came over him that at last he had run his head
against a stone wall. Had his boat been afloat at the time, he believed
he would have tried to steal away, taking his chances of a long chase
down the river and of starvation at sea. It is very doubtful whether he
would have succeeded in getting away. However, he didn't try this. For
another moment he had a passing thought of trying to rush the town,
but he perceived very well that in the end he would find himself in the
lighted street, where they would be shot down like dogs from the houses.
They were two hundred to one--he thought, while his men, huddling round
two heaps of smouldering embers, munched the last of the bananas and
roasted the few yams they owed to Kassim's diplomacy. Cornelius sat
amongst them dozing sulkily.

'Then one of the whites remembered that some tobacco had been left in
the boat, and, encouraged by the impunity of the Solomon Islander,
said he would go to fetch it. At this all the others shook off
their despondency. Brown applied to, said, "Go, and be d--d to you,"
scornfully. He didn't think there was any danger in going to the creek
in the dark. The man threw a leg over the tree-trunk and disappeared. A
moment later he was heard clambering into the boat and then clambering
out. "I've got it," he cried. A flash and a report at the very foot of
the hill followed. "I am hit," yelled the man. "Look out, look out--I am
hit," and instantly all the rifles went off. The hill squirted fire
and noise into the night like a little volcano, and when Brown and
the Yankee with curses and cuffs stopped the panic-stricken firing, a
profound, weary groan floated up from the creek, succeeded by a plaint
whose heartrending sadness was like some poison turning the blood
cold in the veins. Then a strong voice pronounced several distinct
incomprehensible words somewhere beyond the creek. "Let no one fire,"
shouted Brown. "What does it mean?" . . . "Do you hear on the hill?
Do you hear? Do you hear?" repeated the voice three times. Cornelius
translated, and then prompted the answer. "Speak," cried Brown, "we
hear." Then the voice, declaiming in the sonorous inflated tone of a
herald, and shifting continually on the edge of the vague waste-land,
proclaimed that between the men of the Bugis nation living in Patusan
and the white men on the hill and those with them, there would be no
faith, no compassion, no speech, no peace. A bush rustled; a haphazard
volley rang out. "Dam' foolishness," muttered the Yankee, vexedly
grounding the butt. Cornelius translated. The wounded man below
the hill, after crying out twice, "Take me up! take me up!" went on
complaining in moans. While he had kept on the blackened earth of the
slope, and afterwards crouching in the boat, he had been safe enough.
It seems that in his joy at finding the tobacco he forgot himself and
jumped out on her off-side, as it were. The white boat, lying high and
dry, showed him up; the creek was no more than seven yards wide in that
place, and there happened to be a man crouching in the bush on the other
bank.

'He was a Bugis of Tondano only lately come to Patusan, and a relation
of the man shot in the afternoon. That famous long shot had indeed
appalled the beholders. The man in utter security had been struck down,
in full view of his friends, dropping with a joke on his lips, and they
seemed to see in the act an atrocity which had stirred a bitter rage.
That relation of his, Si-Lapa by name, was then with Doramin in the
stockade only a few feet away. You who know these chaps must admit that
the fellow showed an unusual pluck by volunteering to carry the message,
alone, in the dark. Creeping across the open ground, he had deviated
to the left and found himself opposite the boat. He was startled when
Brown's man shouted. He came to a sitting position with his gun to his
shoulder, and when the other jumped out, exposing himself, he pulled the
trigger and lodged three jagged slugs point-blank into the poor wretch's
stomach. Then, lying flat on his face, he gave himself up for dead,
while a thin hail of lead chopped and swished the bushes close on his
right hand; afterwards he delivered his speech shouting, bent double,
dodging all the time in cover. With the last word he leaped sideways,
lay close for a while, and afterwards got back to the houses unharmed,
having achieved on that night such a renown as his children will not
willingly allow to die.

'And on the hill the forlorn band let the two little heaps of embers
go out under their bowed heads. They sat dejected on the ground with
compressed lips and downcast eyes, listening to their comrade below. He
was a strong man and died hard, with moans now loud, now sinking to a
strange confidential note of pain. Sometimes he shrieked, and again,
after a period of silence, he could be heard muttering deliriously a
long and unintelligible complaint. Never for a moment did he cease.

'"What's the good?" Brown had said unmoved once, seeing the Yankee, who
had been swearing under his breath, prepare to go down. "That's so,"
assented the deserter, reluctantly desisting. "There's no encouragement
for wounded men here. Only his noise is calculated to make all the
others think too much of the hereafter, cap'n." "Water!" cried the
wounded man in an extraordinarily clear vigorous voice, and then went
off moaning feebly. "Ay, water. Water will do it," muttered the other to
himself, resignedly. "Plenty by-and-by. The tide is flowing."

'At last the tide flowed, silencing the plaint and the cries of pain,
and the dawn was near when Brown, sitting with his chin in the palm of
his hand before Patusan, as one might stare at the unscalable side of a
mountain, heard the brief ringing bark of a brass 6-pounder far away
in town somewhere. "What's this?" he asked of Cornelius, who hung about
him. Cornelius listened. A muffled roaring shout rolled down-river over
the town; a big drum began to throb, and others responded, pulsating and
droning. Tiny scattered lights began to twinkle in the dark half of the
town, while the part lighted by the loom of fires hummed with a deep and
prolonged murmur. "He has come," said Cornelius. "What? Already? Are
you sure?" Brown asked. "Yes! yes! Sure. Listen to the noise." "What
are they making that row about?" pursued Brown. "For joy," snorted
Cornelius; "he is a very great man, but all the same, he knows no more
than a child, and so they make a great noise to please him, because they
know no better." "Look here," said Brown, "how is one to get at him?"
"He shall come to talk to you," Cornelius declared. "What do you mean?
Come down here strolling as it were?" Cornelius nodded vigorously in the
dark. "Yes. He will come straight here and talk to you. He is just like
a fool. You shall see what a fool he is." Brown was incredulous. "You
shall see; you shall see," repeated Cornelius. "He is not afraid--not
afraid of anything. He will come and order you to leave his people
alone. Everybody must leave his people alone. He is like a little child.
He will come to you straight." Alas! he knew Jim well--that "mean little
skunk," as Brown called him to me. "Yes, certainly," he pursued with
ardour, "and then, captain, you tell that tall man with a gun to shoot
him. Just you kill him, and you will frighten everybody so much that
you can do anything you like with them afterwards--get what you like--go
away when you like. Ha! ha! ha! Fine . . ." He almost danced with
impatience and eagerness; and Brown, looking over his shoulder at him,
could see, shown up by the pitiless dawn, his men drenched with dew,
sitting amongst the cold ashes and the litter of the camp, haggard,
cowed, and in rags.'

Chapters 38-40
Eight, Thirty Nine and Forty . The story of Jim's fate begins proper in Chapter Thirty Eight as the narrative returns to Brown, who is described as a 'latter day buccaneer', and to the time when he has stolen the Spanish schooner. He is described as tired of life and unafraid of death, but is 'in mortal fear of imprisonment'. . . After the theft, he and his crew are short of food and water and board several craft to steal from them. Brown does not dare to put into a port as the authorities may arrest him; he plans to go to Madagascar, but needs provisions to do so. He visits Patusan for this very reason. They take a long boat up the river and a shout goes up and cannons are fired. Brown and his men land 900 yards from the stockade and the chapter ends with them out of their boat and lying behind felled trees. Everything around them is described as still, dark and silent. . . In Chapter Thirty Nine, it is related that Jim is away in the interior at this point and Dain Waris leads the first repulse against these intruders. Jewel is in command of the Fort and cares for the refugees; she shows a 'martial ardour'. Dain Waris comes to her at once at the first signs of danger as Jim has the only store of gunpowder . The chief men are also there as they discuss what to do. They organize ways to get rid of Brown and messengers are sent to inform Jim of what is happening. In addition, Kassim opens up communications with Brown and takes Cornelius with him . After talking to Cornelius for half an hour, Brown's eyes are opened 'as to the home affairs of Patusan'. . . Kassim dislikes Doramin and the Bugis, 'but he hated the new order of things still more'. He thinks these men, together with the Rajah's followers, could attack and beat the Bugis before the return of Jim. Brown has only come to the area for food, rubber and some money, but after meeting Kassim he begins to think of stealing the whole country. Brown then pretends to have a big ship full of men at the mouth of the river. This chapter ends with Cornelius offering Brown what he calls 'friend's advice' and tells him about Jim: he says he only has to kill him and he will be king here. . . Brown tries to gain time 'by fooling with Kassim's diplomacy' in Chapter Forty. In truth, he believes Jim  is the only one to work with. Brown sees himself as offering Jim the power to take full control and that they would share in it. He sees them working as brothers, 'till the time came for a quarrel and a shot that would settle all accounts'. His machinations are clear when he orders one of his men to shoot at one of the Patusan inhabitants to put fear into the others and sends another of his men to the boat in order to draw the enemy's fire. . . People begin to feel like they should take sides and the social fabric is ready to collapse. Many in the upper classes think they should pay court to the Rajah and only Doramin keeps his countrymen together. . . Brown tells Marlow later that he would have left that night if his boat had been afloat as his men were outnumbered 200 to one. One of his men is shot and Cornelius translates a message from the Bugis informing him that there 'would be no faith, no compassion, no speech, no peace' between the Bugis and the white men on the hill. . . Towards dawn, drumbeat and cannon can be heard in town and Cornelius tells Brown that he  has come back. He then predicts Jim will come to Brown, as he is afraid of nothing. He also suggests Brown sends one of his men to kill Jim, as he will then have complete power. .
Eight, Thirty Nine and Forty . In Jim's absence, the outsiders disturb the peace and fabric of Patusan society. This serves to emphasize Jim's importance in the community, and is also a useful dramatic device for bringing about the novel's climax. Because of his absence, it is also possible to highlight the extent of Cornelius's treacherous impulses as he inveigles himself on Brown in order to enact revenge on Jim.