Easy enough to dispose of a Malay woman, a slave, after all, to his Eastern mind, convent or no convent, ceremony or no ceremony.
He lifted his head and confronted the anxious yet irate seaman.
"I--of course--anything you wish, Captain Lingard." "Call me father, my boy.

She does," said the mollified old adventurer.
"Damme, though, if I didn't think you were going to refuse.

Mind you, Kaspar, I always get my way, so it would have been no use.

But you are no fool." He remembered well that time--the look, the accent, the words, the effect they produced on him, his very surroundings.

He remembered the narrow slanting deck of the brig, the silent sleeping coast, the smooth black surface of the sea with a great bar of gold laid on it by the rising moon.