Into the midst of Captain Tom Lingard's lawless affair of honor involving the throne of a Malayan prince blundered the English yacht, fatefully stranded in the midst of the conspiracy. Of the three white passengers only the owners's wife understood the situation--and Lingard. On him fell the decision--to save the whites, or to let the natives have their way with them and fulfill his debt to the Malayan prince. To Lingard this woman came as the first blinding flash of all woman could mean to man. Unguessable is the inevitable climax of this rescue.
ought to my troubled mind the comforting sense of an accomplished task, and the first consciousness of a certain sort of mastery which could accomplish something with the aid of propitious stars. Why I did not return to "The Rescue" at once then, was not for the reason that I had grown afraid of it. Being able now to assume a firm attitude I said to myself deliberately: "That thing can wait." At the same time I was just as certain in my mind that "Youth," a story which I had then, so to speak, on the tip of my pen, could NOT wait. Neither could "Heart of Darkness" be put off; for the practical reason that Mr. Wm. Blackwood having requested me to write something for the No. M of his magazine I had to stir up at once the subject of that tale which had been long lying quiescent in my mind, because, obviously, the venerable Maga at her patriarchal age of 1000 numbers could not be kept waiting. Then "Lord Jim," with about seventeen pages already written at odd times, put in his claim which was irresistible. Thus e