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1 6 The Sea Gypsy
stay here, by Jove, but no such luck. I'm ordered back to Burma. Now here comes a lucky man. He's been here twenty years." He pointed at a dry little man in spectacles who came in, was introduced and passed on into another room.
"That chap's a forester. Dane or something by birth, but he saved a British ship. He was the engineer. The government asked him what he wanted as a reward and he chose a permanent billet here. Lucky dog."
The Port Officer, who had gone out, came in to say that the Governor was waiting to see us. As we plodded up the winding gravel road to the big mansion on top of the hill, we passed a two-wheeled carriage. It had no horses, but six sweating, half -naked natives were pulling heavily at the shafts. By its side walked a Sikh guard. Half reclining in the carriage-seat was a woman, her face almost as pale as her cool white linen dress. It was the work of the tropical sun, that pallor. I had been long accustomed to recognize its disastrous effect on the complexions of white women.
"A white woman living in the midst of ten thousand murderers," I murmured to myself. "Unhappy creature." But as I looked closely at her, as she returned our bow, I could see no marks of discontent. Rather she had the air of one to whom life has been good — very good.
At the door of the Governor's mansion, a great white parrot screamed an unfriendly greeting. Several Indian servants met us and led us through a long hall,