But Almayer, plunged in abstracted thought, did not seem to want that pony any more. Amazed at this sudden indifference I turned all hands out on shore to hunt for him on my own account, or, at any rate, to hunt for the canvas sling which he had round his body. The whole crew of the steamer, with the exception of firemen and engineers, rushed up the jetty past the thoughtful Almayer and vanished from my sight. The white fog swallowed them up; and again there was a deep silence that seemed to extend for miles up and down the stream. Still taciturn, Almayer started to climb on board, and I went down from the bridge to meet him on the after deck.
“Would you mind telling the captain that I want to see him very particularly?” he asked me in a low tone, letting his eyes stray all over the place.
“Very well. I will go and see.”
With the door of his cabin wide open Captain C—, just back from the bathroom, big and broad-chested, was brushing his thick, damp, iron-grey hair with two large brushes.
“Mr. Almayer told me he wanted to see you very particularly, sir.”
Saying these words I smiled. I don't know why I smiled except that it seemed absolutely impossible to mention Almayer's name without a smile of a sort. It had not to be necessarily a mirthful smile. Turning his head towards me Captain C— smiled too, rather joylessly.
“The pony got away from him—eh?”
“Yes sir. He did.”
“Where is he?”
“Goodness only knows.”