|On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmebe

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heart is faint with fear," whispered Immada.
Lingard turned swiftly to that whisper.
"Then, they are to be saved," exclaimed Mrs. Travers. "Ah, I
knew. . . ."
"Bear thy fear in patience," said Hassim, rapidly, to his sister.
"They are to be saved. You have said it," Lingard pronounced
aloud, suddenly. He felt like a swimmer who, in the midst of
superhuman efforts to reach the shore, perceives that the
undertow is taking him to sea. He would go with the mysterious
current; he would go swiftly--and see the end, the fulfilment
both blissful and terrible.
With this state of exaltation in which he saw himself in some
incomprehensible way always victorious, whatever might befall,
there was mingled a tenacity of purpose. He could not sacrifice
his intention, the intention of years, the intention of his life;
he could no more part with it and exist than he could cut out his
heart and live. The adventurer held fast to his adventure which
made him in his own sight exactly what he was.
He considered the problem with cool audacity, backed by a belief
in his own power. It was not these two men he had to save; he had
to save himself! And looked upon in this way the situation
appeared familiar.
Hassim had told him the two white men had been taken by their
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|On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmeac