'The defeated Sherif Ali fled the country without making another stand, and when the miserable¹ hunted villagers began to crawl out of the jungle back to their rotting houses, it was Jim who, in consultation² with Dain Waris, appointed the headmen. Thus he became the virtual ruler of the land. As to old Tunku Allang, his fears at first had known no bounds. It is said that at the intelligence of the successful storming of the hill he flung himself, face down, on the bamboo floor of his audience-hall, and lay motionless for a whole night and a whole day, uttering stifled³ sounds of such an appalling⁴ nature that no man dared approach his prostrate⁵ form nearer than a spear's length. Already he could see himself driven ignominiously⁶ out of Patusan, wandering, abandoned, stripped, without opium⁷, without his women, without followers⁸, a fair game for the first comer to kill. After Sherif Ali his turn would come, and who could resist an attack led by such a devil? And indeed he owed his life and such authority as he still possessed⁹ at the time of my visit to Jim's idea of what was fair alone. The Bugis had been extremely anxious to pay off old scores, and the impassive old Doramin cherished the hope of yet seeing his son ruler of Patusan. During one of our interviews he deliberately¹⁰ allowed me to get a glimpse of this secret ambition. Nothing could be finer in its way than the dignified¹¹

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