An Outcast of the Islands | Page 5

if he finds anything worth having up there they will poison him like a dog." Disconnected
though it was, that phrase, as food for thought, was distinctly worth hearing. We left the
river three days afterwards and I never returned to Sambir; but whatever happened to the
protagonist of my Willems nobody can deny that I have recorded for him a less squalid
fate. J. C. 1919.



PART I AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS

CHAPTER ONE
When he stepped off the straight and narrow path of his peculiar honesty, it was with an
inward assertion of unflinching resolve to fall back again into the monotonous but safe
stride of virtue as soon as his little excursion into the wayside quagmires had produced
the desired effect. It was going to be a short episode--a sentence in brackets, so to
speak--in the flowing tale of his life: a thing of no moment, to be done unwillingly, yet
neatly, and to be quickly forgotten. He imagined that he could go on afterwards looking
at the sunshine, enjoying the shade, breathing in the perfume of flowers in the small
garden before his house. He fancied that nothing would be changed, that he would be
able as heretofore to tyrannize good-humouredly over his half-caste wife, to notice with
tender contempt his pale yellow child, to patronize loftily his dark-skinned brother-in-law,
who loved pink neckties and wore patent-leather boots on his little feet, and was so
humble before the white husband of the lucky sister. Those were the delights of his life,
and he was unable to conceive that the moral significance of any act of his could interfere
with the very nature of things, could dim the light of the sun, could destroy the perfume
of the flowers, the submission of his wife, the smile of his child, the awe-struck respect of
Leonard da Souza and of all the Da Souza family. That family's admiration was the great
luxury of his life. It rounded and completed his existence in a perpetual assurance of
unquestionable superiority. He loved to breathe the coarse incense they offered before the
shrine of the successful white man; the man that had done them the honour to marry their
daughter, sister, cousin; the rising man sure to climb very high; the confidential clerk of
Hudig & Co. They were a numerous and an unclean crowd, living in ruined bamboo
houses, surrounded by neglected compounds, on the outskirts of Macassar. He kept them
at arm's length and even further off, perhaps, having no illusions as to their worth. They
were a half-caste, lazy lot, and he saw them as they were--ragged, lean, unwashed,
undersized men of various ages, shuffling about aimlessly in slippers; motionless old
women who looked like monstrous bags of pink calico stuffed with shapeless lumps of
fat, and deposited askew upon decaying rattan chairs in shady corners of dusty verandahs;
young women, slim and yellow, big-eyed, long-haired, moving languidly amongst the
dirt and rubbish of their dwellings as if every step they took was going to be their very
last. He heard their shrill quarrellings, the squalling of their children, the grunting of their
pigs; he smelt the odours of the heaps of garbage in their courtyards: and he was greatly
disgusted. But he fed and clothed that shabby multitude; those degenerate descendants of
Portuguese conquerors; he was their providence; he kept them singing his praises in the
midst of their laziness, of their dirt, of their immense and hopeless squalor: and he was
greatly delighted. They wanted much, but he could give them all they wanted without
ruining himself. In exchange he had their silent fear, their loquacious love, their noisy
veneration. It is a fine thing to be a providence, and to be told so on every day of one's
life. It gives one a feeling of enormously remote superiority, and Willems revelled in it.
He did not analyze the state of his mind, but probably his greatest delight lay in the
unexpressed but intimate conviction that, should he close his hand, all those admiring
human beings would starve. His munificence had demoralized them. An easy task. Since
he descended amongst them and married Joanna they had lost the little aptitude and

strength for work they might have had to put forth under the stress of extreme necessity.
They lived now by the grace of his will. This was power. Willems loved it. In another,
and perhaps a lower plane, his days did not want for their less complex but more obvious
pleasures. He liked the simple games of skill--billiards; also games not so simple, and
calling for quite another kind of skill--poker. He had been the aptest pupil of a
steady-eyed, sententious American, who had drifted mysteriously into Macassar from the
wastes of the Pacific,