“No, sar. Nothin’ so, sar.”
“Well, what?”
“He sing about wicked things. About sin. He say—”
“What does he say, you cinder from the Pit?”
“He say, you take coal, wash him long time, in water of roses, coal never get white. Sin always stay. He say, rain fall long time, one year, ocean never get fresh water. Always salty water. Sin always stay. He say one small piece indigo fall in one jar of goat-milk, spoil all milk, make all milk blue. One sin last all life, always.” The Malay paused, trying to muster his paucity of English. Briggs shook him roughly, bidding him go on, or suffer harm.
“He say if sky will go to fall down, no man can hold him up. Sin always fall down. He say, good seed on land, him grow. Good seed on ocean, him never grow. He say—”
“That’ll do! Stow your jaw, now!”
“Yas, sar.”
“Get out—go forrard!”
The Malay salaamed, departed. Briggs hailed him again.