مارلو به دیدن جیم میره

Chapter six

Marlow visits Jim

The coast of Patusan is straight and dark, on a misty sea. When I arrived there, nearly two years later, I could see blue mountain tops beyond the thick green jungle. Fortunately, the river was open then, and our ship stopped at the fishing village, called Batu Kring, at the mouth of the river. We needed to take on board a native to guide our little ship up the river to the trading-post at Patusan. The man who agreed to come with us was the chief or headman of the village. He talked confidently to me (only the second white man he had ever seen), and most of his talk was about the first white man he had ever seen. He called him Tuan Jim, and spoke of him with great respect.

I thought of Jim’s last words to me, ‘You shall hear of me.’ It was perfectly true. I was hearing of him.

At first, the headman told me, the natives had been very frightened of the lonely, white-uniformed figure, who had arrived so unexpectedly, and who gave them orders. He wanted them to take him by boat to the trading-post immediately. They were afraid Rajah Allang would be angry with them if they obeyed the stranger, but they were in greater fear of the white man’s anger. After a lot of whispering among themselves, they decided that three of them would take Jim up the river by canoe.

That is how Jim entered the country where he became known and respected, from the blue mountains beyond the jungle to the white tops of the waves on the coast. Behind him were the waves of the sea, endlessly rising and sinking, and ahead of him were the immovable forests, reaching up towards the sunshine, but as dark and shadowy as life itself. And his opportunity sat waiting by his side, like an Eastern bride hiding her lovely face from her future husband.

But Jim told me later that he had never in his life felt so miserable and tired as in that canoe. He sat there, with his back straight and the sun beating down on his head, holding the gun I had given him. He felt almost sick with worry and the heat.

As soon as the canoe reached the trading-post, the three boatmen jumped out and ran off into the trees. Jim saw a stockade with high wooden posts on his left, and some native houses further away. He jumped out too, and at first seemed to be alone. But then a gate in the stockade was thrown open, and a lot of Malays ran towards him. At the same time, a boat full of men with weapons appeared on the river, so that he could not escape in the now empty canoe. There was no way out. The boatmen had handed him over to the Rajah’s men.

‘Luckily there was no ammunition in my gun,’ Jim told me, ‘so I didn’t try to kill anyone, and they didn’t hurt me. I just asked them what they wanted. They didn’t know what to say. Finally a servant ran up to say the Rajah wanted to see me. “All right,” I said, “I want to see him too,” and I simply walked in through the gate. And do you know the best thing about it? I’ll tell you. It was lucky for them that they didn’t kill me.’

He was speaking to me in front of his house on that first evening of my visit, after we had watched the moon move away over the hills, like a soul rising from a dead body. Moonlight is confusing and mysterious; it makes real things look shadowy, and shadows look real. But Jim by my side seemed very strong - not even moonlight could make him look shadowy to me. Perhaps, indeed, nothing could touch him since he had survived his fight with evil.

All was silent, all was still in this lost corner of the world. The silvery grey houses crowding along the wide shining river seemed like a line of ghostly animals, pushing forward to drink from the lifeless water. Here and there, a warm red light shone through the thin house walls, where human beings ate, and talked, and rested.

‘You know,’ Jim said to me, ‘I often watch those little lights go out one by one. I love seeing people go to sleep under my eyes, safe and happy, with no fears for tomorrow. Peaceful here, isn’t it? Ask any man, woman or child here if they trust me…’ He paused, and spoke with deep meaning. ‘Well, now I know I am all right, anyway.’

‘So you’ve found that out at last,’ I replied. ‘I was always sure you were.’

‘Were you?’ He touched my arm lightly. ‘Well, then - you were right. My God! Just think what it means to me! How could I ever leave here? And after what you tell me of Mr Stein’s offer… Leaving - it would be harder than dying. No, don’t laugh, but I must feel - every day, every time I open my eyes - that I am trusted - that nobody can say - you know? Leave! Where would I go? Why? For what?’

I had told him (indeed it was the main reason for my visit) that Stein walked to hand over the whole trading-post, with everything it contained, to Jim. At first Jim had refused to accept this generous offer, but I had made him realize that he had earned it. ‘Stein is only giving you what you have made for yourself,’ I had told him. And Jim had to give in, because all his successes, the trust, the fame, the love - all these things, which had given him control over his life and fate, had also made him a prisoner. He looked with an owner’s eye at the land and its people, but it was they who owned him, to the last breath in his body.

The trust and respect of these people was something to be proud of. I, too, was proud for him. It was certainly wonderful. He had shown he was a brave, intelligent, well-organized leader of men. He clearly felt deeply and seriously about his work in Patusan - the work that had proved to him that he was ‘all right’. That is why he seemed to love the land and the people with a kind of wild selfishness.

While I was in Patusan, Jim took me to visit the Rajah. ‘This is where I was a prisoner for three days when I arrived,’ he whispered to me, as we walked slowly through a silent and respectful crowd. ‘Dirty place, isn’t it? And they only gave me a small plate of rice and a bit of fried fish to eat! They took my gun away, of course, but they didn’t lock me up. I was able to walk around inside the stockade.’

At that moment we arrived in front of the Rajah, and I noticed how Jim changed his way of speaking at once. His manner was calm and polite, and he spoke slowly and seriously, giving a lot of thought to his words. This had just the right effect on the evil old Rajah, who was clearly afraid of Jim, but still respected and trusted him.

Although their conversation was difficult for me to follow, I understood that Jim was acting as a kind of judge, and telling the Rajah the difference between right and wrong. Some poor villagers had been robbed while on their way to trade at Doramin’s house, and it was clear that everyone knew the Rajah’s men were responsible for this robbery. But to the Rajah, Doramin was a hated enemy, and the Rajah cried out suddenly, ‘It’s Doramin who is a thief!’ His weak old body shook with anger, and all around us, his family and servants stared, their mouths open.

Then Jim began to speak. ‘Nobody,’ he said calmly, ‘should prevent any man from getting his food and his children’s food honestly. Nobody should ever steal.’ There was a great stillness in the room. Finally the old Rajah looked up, shaking his head tiredly, and said, ‘You hear, my people! No more of these little games.’

One of his servants came forward to offer us two cups of coffee. ‘You needn’t drink,’ Jim whispered quickly to me.

I didn’t understand what he meant at first, but just watched him as he drank. Then I realized, and felt extremely annoyed. ‘Why the hell do you put me in danger like this?’ I whispered back to him, smiling pleasantly all the time. I drank the coffee, of course - I couldn’t avoid doing that - and we left soon afterwards.

‘I’m very sorry about that,’ said Jim quietly to me as we walked back to our boat. ‘I really don’t think he would try to poison us. Personally, I never think about it. You see, if I want to do any good here, I have to show I don’t care about the danger. Many people trust me to do that - for them.’

‘But anyone can see he’s afraid of you,’ I said crossly, all the time watching for the first sign of stomach pain.

‘That’s just it! He’s probably afraid of me because I’m not afraid of his coffee.’ He pointed to part of the stockade, where the tops of several posts were broken. ‘Look, that’s where I jumped over, on my third day as a prisoner. The Rajah and his advisers had spent all the time since my arrival trying to decide what to do with me, and I had just been waiting for something to happen. But suddenly I realized what extreme danger I was in, so I just ran at the stockade, and flew over like a bird. I picked myself up on the other side and ran as fast as I could towards the village houses, about four hundred metres away. Behind me I could hear shouting, as the Rajah’s men started to follow me. Ahead of me was a creek. I jumped across it and landed in very soft, wet mud. I couldn’t move my legs at all, and lay there, trying desperately to pull myself out with my arms. The mud came right up to my chin, and as I dug wildly, I thought I was burying myself even deeper. I was becoming exhausted, but I made one last great attempt-and at last felt myself creeping weakly out of the mud on the other side of the creek. Think of me, muddy and alone, in that terrible place, with no friends or anyone to help me! I ran through the village - women and children ran screaming from me, men stood still, staring at me in horror - I don’t suppose I looked at all like a human being.

‘Finally, I turned a corner, and fell into the arms of several surprised-looking men. I just had breath to cry, “Doramin!” They carried me to Doramin’s house, which was inside its own stockade, and put me down in front of a large, important-looking man, sitting in a chair. Somewhere in my muddy clothes I managed to find Stein’s silver ring. Everyone was shouting excitedly, and running here and there. I could hear shots in the distance from the Rajah’s men, but here I was safe. Doramin’s people were closing the heavy gates of the stockade, and giving me water to drink. Doramin’s wife took care of me - she was very kind to me.’

About sixty families in Patusan considered Doramin their chief. His men frequently had fights with the Rajah’s people, mostly about trading. The problem was that the Rajah thought he alone should trade in Patusan; he became wild with anger when he discovered anyone else buying or selling. He was a cruel, evil and cowardly man, who had made a habit of robbing and killing Doramin’s people, until Jim came.

There was a third leader in Patusan, an Arab half-caste called Sherif Ali, who had persuaded some of the natives to join him. They lived high up on the top of one of the two mountains, and from there often came down at night to steal food and animals, kill people and hum buildings. Parts of the countryside were blackened and empty, and the local people were suffering badly. In this confused situation, none of the three leaders trusted or respected each other, and until Jim’s arrival, there seemed no way of bringing peace to the country.

If you once saw Doramin, you would never forget him. He was much larger than most Malays, with a heavy body dressed in richly coloured clothes, and a big, flat, round head, with proud, staring eyes. No one ever heard him raise his voice. He never moved without help; when he walked, two strong young men dressed in white held his elbows. In the afternoons, he sat silently by his wife’s side, looking out, through an opening in the stockade, at the dark green jungle, the distant purple mountains, and the silver shining river.

This old couple had a son called Dain Waris, a polite, handsome young man of twenty-four or five. They loved him deeply, although they never showed it. I liked him as soon as I met him. I realized he was both brave and intelligent, and I believe he trusted and even understood Jim. ‘Dam Waris is the best friend I ever had, except for you,’ Jim told me proudly. ‘We fought together, you know. Against Sherif Ali. You see, when I arrived, the Rajah, Doramin and Sherif Ali were all afraid of each other. I soon realized what I had to do, but I needed Dain Waris’s help. He was the first to believe in me, and he persuaded his father to agree to my plan.’

Jim’s plan! I heard the whole story of it from him during my visit. He had decided that it was necessary to defeat Sherif Ali, and planned to attack his mountain home. Doramin owned several heavy old guns, used in the past for fighting jungle wars. One dark night, Jim arranged for teams of men using ropes to pull these guns right up to the top of one of the mountains. It was difficult, hot work, and all the time Jim and the men were lifting and pulling, old Doramin sat watching silently in his chair. The Malays already believed that Jim was doing the impossible. How could those guns, too heavy for one man to lift, reach the mountain top? This was the beginning of their great respect for Jim.

From there, Doramin’s men had an excellent view of the other mountain top, where Sherif Ali and his followers were asleep. As soon as the sun rose, the first shots were fired, on Jim’s order, and the battle began. Jim, with Dain Waris by his side, led a group up the second hill towards Sherif Ali’s stockade. He knew he had to win this fight - Doramin’s people were depending on him. He and Dain Waris were the first to break into the Arab’s stockade. Close behind them came Tamb’ Itam, Jim’s personal servant and a fearless fighter. He was a Malay from the north, a stranger to Patusan, who for a time had been a prisoner of the Rajah. When he escaped, he came to Jim, and ever since had followed him everywhere, like a shadow.

The battle was violent, but short. The stockade was burnt down and Sherif Ali and his men were defeated. Some were dead, but most of them were chased away into the jungle.

When this wonderful news reached the village, people were delighted. They ran in and out of their houses, shouting, singing and laughing excitedly. Of course Jim was delighted too. He had succeeded in doing what he had promised, and now he could believe in himself again. I can’t tell you how completely lonely he appeared to me, but somehow his loneliness added to his greatness. He seemed to be one of those men who can only be measured by the greatness of their fame, and his fame, remember, was the greatest thing for many a day’s journey around, even beyond the jungle. His word was the one truth of every passing day, and reports of his fame travelled far and wide, heard on the lips of whispering men, full of wonder and mystery.

No one ever saw Sherif Ali again, and when some of his men crept back from the jungle later, it was Jim, advised by Dain Waris, who chose a headman from among them. The Rajah was afraid that Jim would attack him too - he could lose his land, his money, his women, his servants! - and therefore he behaved very carefully. So Jim found himself in complete control of one of the most dangerous corners of the world.

Old Doramin, however, had a secret wish. He wanted to see his son take the Rajah’s place one day, and just before I left, he spoke to me about it. ‘Of course Tuan Jim knows best,’ he said, ‘but if I could only have a promise! I worry about the future of our country. You see, the land is always here, but white men come and go. One day this white man, too, will-‘

‘No, no,’ I replied quickly, without thinking. ‘He won’t go.’ Doramin looked into my face. ‘That is good news indeed,’ he answered calmly. ‘But why do you say that?’

And his wife, a small, thin, motherly woman, asked sadly, ‘Why did he travel so far away from his home? Has he no family, no old mother, who will always remember his face?’ I could not answer. Strangely enough, that evening, my last in Patusan, I was asked the same question again.