The man in the foremost canoe, now within hail of the first houses of Sambir, laid in his paddle and stood up shouting-- "The boats! the boats! The man-of-war's boats are coming! They are here!" In a moment the settlement was again alive with people rushing to the riverside.

The men began to unfasten their boats, the women stood in groups looking towards the bend down the river.

Above the trees lining the reach a slight puff of smoke appeared like a black stain on the brilliant blue of the cloudless sky.
Babalatchi stood perplexed, the painter in his hand.

He looked down the reach, then up towards Almayer's house, and back again at the river as if undecided what to do.

At last he made the canoe fast again hastily, and ran towards the house and up the steps of the verandah.
"Tuan! Tuan!" he called, eagerly.