midst of
unscrupulous intrigues and of a fierce trade competition. The Arabs had found
out the river, had established a trading post in Sambir, and where they traded
they would be masters and suffer no rival. Lingard returned unsuccessful from
his first expedition, and departed again spending all the profits of the
legitimate trade on his mysterious journeys. Almayer struggled with the
difficulties of his position, friendless and unaided, save for the protection
given to him for Lingard's sake by the old Rajah, the predecessor of Lakamba.
Lakamba himself, then living as a private individual on a rice clearing, seven
miles down the river, exercised all his influence towards the help of the white
man's enemies, plotting against the old Rajah and Almayer with a certainty of
combination, pointing clearly to a profound knowledge of their most secret
affairs. Outwardly friendly, his portly form was often to be seen on Almayer's
verandah; his green turban and gold-embroidered jacket shone in the front rank
of the decorous throng of Malays coming to greet Lingard on his returns from the
interior; his salaams were of the lowest, and his hand-shakings of the
heartiest, when welcoming the old trader. But his small eyes took in the signs
of the times, and he departed from those interviews with a satisfied and furtive
smile to hold long consultations with his friend and ally, Syed Abdulla, the
chief of the Arab trading post, a man of great wealth and of great influence in
the islands.
    It was currently believed at that time in the settlement that Lakamba's
visits to Almayer's house were not limited to those official interviews. Often
on moonlight nights the belated fishermen of Sambir saw a small canoe shooting
out from the narrow creek at the back of the white man's house, and the solitary
occupant paddle cautiously down the river in the deep shadows of the bank; and
those events, duly reported, were discussed round the evening fires far into the
night with the cynicism of expression common to Malays. Almayer went on
struggling desperately, but with a feebleness of purpose depriving him of all
chance of success against men so unscrupulous and resolute as his rivals the
Arabs. The trade fell away from the large godowns, and the godowns themselves
rotted piecemeal. The old man's banker, Hudig of Macassar, failed, and with this
went the whole available capital. The profits of past years had been swallowed
up in Lingard's exploring craze. Lingard was in the interior - perhaps dead - at
all events giving no sign of life. Almayer stood alone in the midst of those
adverse circumstances