continued, “here, which is also my country—being an English craft and worthy of it, too—I am powerful enough. In fact, I am Rajah here. This bit of my country is all my own.”
The visitors were impressed, exchanged meaning glances, nodded at each other.
“Good, good,” said Hassim at last, with a smile. “You carry your country and your power with you over the sea. A Rajah upon the sea. Good!”
Lingard laughed thunderously while the others looked amused.
“Your country is very powerful—we know,” began again Hassim after a pause, “but is it stronger than the country of the Dutch who steal our land?”
“Stronger?” cried Lingard. He opened a broad palm. “Stronger? We could take them in our hand like this—” and he closed his fingers triumphantly.
“And do you make them pay tribute for their land?” enquired Hassim with eagerness.
“No,” answered Lingard in a sobered tone; “this, Tuan Hassim, you see, is not the custom of white men. We could, of course—but it is not the custom.”
“Is it not?” said the other with a sceptical smile. “They are stronger than we are and they want tribute from us. And sometimes they get it—even from Wajo where every man is free and wears a kris.”
There was a period of dead silence while Lingard looked thoughtful and the Malays gazed stonily at nothing.
“But we burn our powder amongst ourselves,” went on Hassim, gently, “and blunt our weapons upon one another.”
He sighed, paused, and then changing to an easy tone began to urge Lingard to visit Wajo “for trade and to see friends,” he said, laying his hand on his breast and inclining his body slightly.
“Aye. To trade with friends,” cried Lingard with a laugh, “for such a ship”—he waved his arm—“for such a vessel as this is like a household where there are many behind the curtain. It is as costly as a wife and children.”
The guests rose and took their leave.
“You fired three shots for
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