'Well, my lad, have you shaved today?'
Neil passed his hand over his chin.
'No, d'you think I need it?'
The Captain always laughed at this.
'Need it? Why, you've got a face like a baby's bottom.'
And invariably Neil reddened to the roots of his hair.
'I shave once a week,' he retorted.
But it wasn't only his looks that made you like him. It was his ingenuousness, his candour, and the freshness with which he confronted the world. For all his intentness and the solemn way in which he took everything, and his inclination to argue upon every point that came up, there was something strangely simple in him that gave you quite an odd feeling. The Captain couldn't make it out.
'I wonder if it's because he's never had a woman,' he said to himself. 'Funny. I should have thought the girls never left him alone. With a complexion like that.'
But the Sultan Ahmed was nearing the bend after rounding which Kuala Solor would be in sight and the Captain's reflections were interrupted by the necessities of his work. He rang down to the engine room. The ship slackened to half speed. Kuala Solor straggled along the left bank of the river, a white, neat, and trim little town, and on the right on a hill were the fort and the Sultan's palace. There was a breeze and the Sultan's flag, at the top of a tall staff, waved bravely against the sky. They anchored in mid-stream. The doctor and a police officer came on board in the government launch. They were accompanied by a tall thin man in white ducks. The Captain stood at the head of the gangway and shook hands with them. Then he turned to the last comer.
'Well, I've brought you your young hopeful safe and sound.' And a glance at Neiclass="underline" 'This is Munro.'
The tall thin man held out his hand and gave Neil an appraising look. Neil flushed a little and smiled. He had beautiful teeth.
'How do you do, sir?'
Munro did not smile with his lips, but faintly with his grey eyes. His cheeks were hollow and he had a thin aquiline nose and pale lips. He was deeply sunburned. His face looked tired, but his expression was very gentle, and Neil immediately felt confidence in him. The Captain introduced him to the doctor and the policeman and suggested that they should have a drink. When they sat down and the boy brought bottles of beer Munro took off his topee. Neil saw that he had close-cropped brown hair turning grey. He was a man of forty, quiet, self-possessed in manner, with an intellectual air that distinguished him from the brisk little doctor and the heavy swaggering police officer.
'MacAdam doesn't drink,' said the Captain when the boy poured out four glasses of beer.'
'All the better,' said Munro. 'I hope you haven't been trying to lure him into evil ways.'
'I tried to in Singapore,' returned the Captain, with a twinkle in his eyes, 'but there was nothing doing.'
When he had finished his beer Munro turned to Neil.
'Well, we'll be getting ashore, shall we?'
Neil's baggage was put in charge of Munro's boy and the two men got into a sampan. They landed.
'Do you want to go straight up to the bungalow or would you like to have a look round first? We've got a couple of hours before tiffin.'
'Couldn't we go to the museum?' said Neil.
Munro's eyes smiled gently. He was pleased. Neil was shy and Munro not by nature talkative, so they walked in silence. By the river were the native huts, and here, living their immemorial lives, dwelt the Malays. They were busy, but without haste, and you were conscious of a happy, normal activity. There was a sense of the rhythm of life of which the pattern was birth and death, love, and the affairs common to mankind. They came to the bazaars, narrow streets with arcades, where the teeming Chinese, working and eating, noisily talking, as is their way, indefatigably strove with eternity.
'It's not much after Singapore,' said Munro, 'but I always think it's rather picturesque.'
He spoke with an accent less broad than Neil's but the Scots burr was there and it put Neil at his ease. He could never quite get it out of his head that the English of English people was affected.
The museum was a handsome stone building and as they entered its portals Munro instinctively straightened himself. The attendant at the door saluted and Munro spoke to him in Malay, evidently explaining who Neil was, for the attendant gave him a smile and saluted again. It was cool in there in comparison with the heat without and the light was pleasant after the glare of the street.
'I'm afraid you'll be disappointed,' said Munro. 'We haven't got half the things we ought to have, but up to now we've been handicapped by lack of money. We've had to do the best we could. So you must make allowances.'
Neil stepped in like a swimmer diving confidently into a summer sea. The specimens were admirably arranged. Munro had sought to please as well as to instruct, and birds and beasts and reptiles were presented, as far as possible in their natural surroundings, in such a way as to give a vivid impression of life. Neil lost his shyness and began with boyish enthusiasm to talk of this and that. He asked an infinity of questions. He was excited. Neither of them was conscious of the passage of time, and when Munro glanced at his watch he was surprised to see what the hour was. They got into rickshaws and drove to the bungalow.
Munro led the young man into a drawing-room. A woman was lying on a sofa reading a book and as they came in she slowly rose.
'This is my wife. I'm afraid we're dreadfully late, Darya.'
'What does it matter?' she smiled. 'What is more unimportant than time?'
She held out her hand, a rather large hand, to Neil and gave him a long, reflective, but friendly look.