Almayer gathered in the rope intelligently enough, but when the pony's hoofs touched the wharf he gave way all at once to a most foolish optimism. Without pausing, without thinking, almost without looking, he disengaged the hook suddenly from the sling, and the cargo-chain, after hitting the pony's quarters, swung back against the ship's side with a noisy, rattling slap. I suppose I must have blinked. I know I missed something, because the next thing I saw was Almayer lying flat on his back on the jetty. He was alone.
Astonishment deprived me of speech long enough to give Almayer time to pick himself up in a leisurely and painful manner. The kalashes lining the rail had all their mouths open. The mist flew in the light breeze, and it had come over quite thick enough to hide the shore completely.
“How on earth did you manage to let him get away?” I asked scandalised.
Almayer looked into the smarting palm of his right hand, but did not answer my inquiry.
“Where do you think he will get to?” I cried. “Are there any fences anywhere in this fog? Can he bolt into the forest? What's to be done now?”
Almayer shrugged his shoulders.
“Some of my men are sure to be about. They will get hold of him sooner or later.”
“Sooner or later! That's all very fine, but what about my canvas sling—he's carried it off. I want it now, at once, to land two Celebes cows.”
Since Dongola we had on board a pair of the pretty little island cattle in addition to the pony. Tied up on the other side of the fore deck they had been whisking their tails into the other door of the galley. These cows were not for Almayer, however; they were invoiced to Abdullah bin Selim, his enemy. Almayer's disregard of my requisites was complete.
“If I were you I would try to find out where he's gone,” I insisted. “Hadn't you better call your men together or something? He will throw himself down and cut his knees. He may even break a leg, you know.”