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II
“YoumustmaroonmeassoonaseveryoucangetamongsttheseislandsofftheCambodgeshore,”hewenton.
“Maroonyou!Wearenotlivinginaboy’sadventuretale,”Iprotested.Hisscornfulwhisperingtookmeup.
“Wearen’tindeed!There’snothingofaboy’staleinthis.Butthere’snothingelseforit.Iwantnomore.Youdon’tsupposeIamafraidofwhatcanbedonetome?Prisonorgallowsorwhatevertheymayplease.Butyoudon’tseemecomingbacktoexplainsuchthingstoanoldfellowinawigandtwelverespectabletradesmen,doyou?WhatcantheyknowwhetherIamguiltyornot—orofwhatIamguilty,either?That’smyaffair.WhatdoestheBiblesay?‘Drivenoffthefaceoftheearth.’Verywell,Iamoffthefaceoftheearthnow.AsIcameatnightsoIshallgo.”
“Impossible!”Imurmured.“Youcan’t.”
“Can’t?...NotnakedlikeasoulontheDayofJudgment.Ishallfreezeontothissleepingsuit.TheLastDayisnotyet—and...youhaveunderstoodthoroughly.Didn’tyou?”
Ifeltsuddenlyashamedofmyself.ImaysaytrulythatIunderstood—andmyhesitationinlettingthatmanswimawayfrommyship’ssidehadbeenamereshamsentiment,asortofcowardice.
“Itcan’tbedonenowtillnextnight,”Ibreathedout.“Theshipisontheoff-shoretackandthewindmayfailus.”
“AslongasIknowthatyouunderstand,”hewhispered.“Butofcourseyoudo.It’sagreatsatisfactiontohavegotsomebodytounderstand.Youseemtohavebeenthereonpurpose.