["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> 'All the events of that night have a great importance, since they\nbrought about a situation which remained unchanged till Jim's return. Jim had been away in the interior for more than a week, and it was Dain\nWaris who had directed the first repulse. That brave and intelligent\nyouth (\"who knew how to fight after the manner of white men\") wished to\nsettle the business off-hand, but his people were too much for him. He had not Jim's racial prestige and the reputation of invincible,\nsupernatural power. He was not the visible, tangible incarnation of\nunfailing truth and of unfailing victory. Beloved, trusted, and\nadmired as he was, he was still one of _them_, while Jim was one of\nus. Moreover, the white man, a tower of strength in himself, was\ninvulnerable, while Dain Waris could be killed. Those unexpressed\nthoughts guided the opinions of the chief men of the town, who elected\nto assemble in Jim's fort for deliberation upon the emergency, as if\nexpecting to find wisdom and courage in the dwelling of the absent white\nman. The shooting of Brown's ruffians was so far good, or lucky, that\nthere had been half-a-dozen casualties amongst the defenders. The\nwounded were lying on the verandah tended by their women-folk. The women\nand children from the lower part of the town had been sent into the\nfort at the first alarm. There Jewel was in command, very efficient and\nhigh-spirited, obeyed by Jim's \"own people,\" who, quitting in a body\ntheir little settlement under the stockade, had gone in to form the\ngarrison. The refugees crowded round her; and through the whole affair,\nto the very disastrous last, she showed an extraordinary martial ardour. It was to her that Dain Waris had gone at once at the first intelligence\nof danger, for you must know that Jim was the only one in Patusan who\npossessed a store of gunpowder. Stein, with whom he had kept up intimate\nrelations by letters, had obtained from the Dutch Government a special\nauthorisation to export five hundred kegs of it to Patusan. The\npowder-magazine was a small hut of rough logs covered entirely with\nearth, and in Jim's absence the girl had the key. In the council, held\nat eleven o'clock in the evening in Jim's dining-room, she backed up\nWaris's advice for immediate and vigorous action. I am told that she\nstood up by the side of Jim's empty chair at the head of the long table\nand made a warlike impassioned speech, which for the moment extorted\nmurmurs of approbation from the assembled headmen. Old Doramin, who had\nnot showed himself outside his own gate for more than a year, had been\nbrought across with great difficulty. He was, of course, the chief man\nthere. The temper of the council was very unforgiving, and the old man's\nword would have been decisive; but it is my opinion that, well aware of\nhis son's fiery courage, he dared not pronounce the word. More dilatory\ncounsels prevailed. A certain Haji Saman pointed out at great length\nthat \"these tyrannical and ferocious men had delivered themselves to\na certain death in any case. They would stand fast on their hill and\nstarve, or they would try to regain their boat and be shot from ambushes\nacross the creek, or they would break and fly into the forest and perish\nsingly there.\" He argued that by the use of proper stratagems these\nevil-minded strangers could be destroyed without the risk of a battle,\nand his words had a great weight, especially with the Patusan men\nproper. What unsettled the minds of the townsfolk was the failure of\nthe Rajah's boats to act at the decisive moment. It was the diplomatic\nKassim who represented the Rajah at the council. He spoke very little,\nlistened smilingly, very friendly and impenetrable. During the sitting\nmessengers kept arriving every few minutes almost, with reports of the\ninvaders' proceedings. Wild and exaggerated rumours were flying: there\nwas a large ship at the mouth of the river with big guns and many more\nmen--some white, others with black skins and of bloodthirsty appearance. They were coming with many more boats to exterminate every living thing. A sense of near, incomprehensible danger affected the common people. At one moment there was a panic in the courtyard amongst the women;\nshrieking; a rush; children crying--Haji Sunan went out to quiet them. Then a fort sentry fired at something moving on the river, and nearly\nkilled a villager bringing in his women-folk in a canoe together with\nthe best of his domestic utensils and a dozen fowls. This caused more\nconfusion. Meantime the palaver inside Jim's house went on in the\npresence of the girl. Doramin sat fierce-faced, heavy, looking at the\nspeakers in turn, and breathing slow like a bull. He didn't speak till\nthe last, after Kassim had declared that the Rajah's boats would be\ncalled in because the men were required to defend his master's stockade. Dain Waris in his father's presence would offer no opinion, though the\ngirl entreated him in Jim's name to speak out. She offered him Jim's own\nmen in her anxiety to have these intruders driven out at once. He only\nshook his head, after a glance or two at Doramin. Finally, when the\ncouncil broke up it had been decided that the houses nearest the creek\nshould be strongly occupied to obtain the command of the enemy's boat. The boat itself was not to be interfered with openly, so that the\nrobbers on the hill should be tempted to embark, when a well-directed\nfire would kill most of them, no doubt. To cut off the escape of those\nwho might survive, and to prevent more of them coming up, Dain Waris was\nordered by Doramin to take an armed party of Bugis down the river to a\ncertain spot ten miles below Patusan, and there form a camp on the shore\nand blockade the stream with the canoes. I don't believe for a moment\nthat Doramin feared the arrival of fresh forces. My opinion is that his\nconduct was guided solely by his wish to keep his son out of harm's\nway. To prevent a rush being made into the town the construction of a\nstockade was to be commenced at daylight at the end of the street on\nthe left bank. The old nakhoda declared his intention to command there\nhimself. A distribution of powder, bullets, and percussion-caps was made\nimmediately under the girl's supervision. Several messengers were to be\ndispatched in different directions after Jim, whose exact whereabouts\nwere unknown. These men started at dawn, but before that time Kassim had\nmanaged to open communications with the besieged Brown. 'That accomplished diplomatist and confidant of the Rajah, on leaving\nthe fort to go back to his master, took into his boat Cornelius, whom he\nfound slinking mutely amongst the people in the courtyard. Kassim had a\nlittle plan of his own and wanted him for an interpreter. Thus it came\nabout that towards morning Brown, reflecting upon the desperate nature\nof his position, heard from the marshy overgrown hollow an amicable,\nquavering, strained voice crying--in English--for permission to come up,\nunder a promise of personal safety and on a very important errand. He\nwas overjoyed. If he was spoken to he was no longer a hunted wild beast. These friendly sounds took off at once the awful stress of vigilant\nwatchfulness as of so many blind men not knowing whence the deathblow\nmight come. He pretended a great reluctance. The voice declared itself\n\"a white man--a poor, ruined, old man who had been living here for\nyears.\" A mist, wet and chilly, lay on the slopes of the hill, and after\nsome more shouting from one to the other, Brown called out, \"Come on,\nthen, but alone, mind!\" As a matter of fact--he told me, writhing with\nrage at the recollection of his helplessness--it made no difference. They couldn't see more than a few yards before them, and no treachery\ncould make their position worse. By-and-by Cornelius, in his\nweek-day attire of a ragged dirty shirt and pants, barefooted, with a\nbroken-rimmed pith hat on his head, was made out vaguely, sidling up to\nthe defences, hesitating, stopping to listen in a peering posture. \"Come\nalong! You are safe,\" yelled Brown, while his men stared. All their\nhopes of life became suddenly centered in that dilapidated, mean\nnewcomer, who in profound silence clambered clumsily over a felled\ntree-trunk, and shivering, with his sour, mistrustful face, looked about\nat the knot of bearded, anxious, sleepless desperadoes.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-02 The user is reading a book]\n<User> 'Half an hour's confidential talk with Cornelius opened Brown's eyes as\nto the home affairs of Patusan. He was on the alert at once. There were\npossibilities, immense possibilities; but before he would talk over\nCornelius's proposals he demanded that some food should be sent up as\na guarantee of good faith. Cornelius went off, creeping sluggishly down\nthe hill on the side of the Rajah's palace, and after some delay a\nfew of Tunku Allang's men came up, bringing a scanty supply of rice,\nchillies, and dried fish. This was immeasurably better than nothing. Later on Cornelius returned accompanying Kassim, who stepped out with\nan air of perfect good-humoured trustfulness, in sandals, and muffled\nup from neck to ankles in dark-blue sheeting. He shook hands with Brown\ndiscreetly, and the three drew aside for a conference. Brown's men,\nrecovering their confidence, were slapping each other on the back, and\ncast knowing glances at their captain while they busied themselves with\npreparations for cooking. 'Kassim disliked Doramin and his Bugis very much, but he hated the new\norder of things still more. It had occurred to him that these whites,\ntogether with the Rajah's followers, could attack and defeat the\nBugis before Jim's return. Then, he reasoned, general defection of\nthe townsfolk was sure to follow, and the reign of the white man who\nprotected poor people would be over. Afterwards the new allies could be\ndealt with. They would have no friends. The fellow was perfectly able to\nperceive the difference of character, and had seen enough of white men\nto know that these newcomers were outcasts, men without country. Brown preserved a stern and inscrutable demeanour. When he first heard\nCornelius's voice demanding admittance, it brought merely the hope of a\nloophole for escape. In less than an hour other thoughts were seething\nin his head. Urged by an extreme necessity, he had come there to steal\nfood, a few tons of rubber or gum may be, perhaps a handful of dollars,\nand had found himself enmeshed by deadly dangers. Now in consequence\nof these overtures from Kassim he began to think of stealing the whole\ncountry. Some confounded fellow had apparently accomplished something of\nthe kind--single-handed at that. Couldn't have done it very well though. Perhaps they could work together--squeeze everything dry and then go out\nquietly. In the course of his negotiations with Kassim he became aware\nthat he was supposed to have a big ship with plenty of men outside. Kassim begged him earnestly to have this big ship with his many guns and\nmen brought up the river without delay for the Rajah's service. Brown\nprofessed himself willing, and on this basis the negotiation was carried\non with mutual distrust. Three times in the course of the morning the\ncourteous and active Kassim went down to consult the Rajah and came up\nbusily with his long stride. Brown, while bargaining, had a sort of grim\nenjoyment in thinking of his wretched schooner, with nothing but a heap\nof dirt in her hold, that stood for an armed ship, and a Chinaman and\na lame ex-beachcomber of Levuka on board, who represented all his many\nmen. In the afternoon he obtained further doles of food, a promise\nof some money, and a supply of mats for his men to make shelters\nfor themselves. They lay down and snored, protected from the burning\nsunshine; but Brown, sitting fully exposed on one of the felled trees,\nfeasted his eyes upon the view of the town and the river. There was much\nloot there. Cornelius, who had made himself at home in the camp, talked\nat his elbow, pointing out the localities, imparting advice, giving his\nown version of Jim's character, and commenting in his own fashion upon\nthe events of the last three years. Brown, who, apparently indifferent\nand gazing away, listened with attention to every word, could not make\nout clearly what sort of man this Jim could be. \"What's his name? Jim! Jim! That's not enough for a man's name.\" \"They call him,\" said\nCornelius scornfully, \"Tuan Jim here. As you may say Lord Jim.\" \"What is\nhe? Where does he come from?\" inquired Brown. \"What sort of man is he? Is he an Englishman?\" \"Yes, yes, he's an Englishman. I am an Englishman\ntoo. From Malacca. He is a fool. All you have to do is to kill him and\nthen you are king here. Everything belongs to him,\" explained Cornelius. \"It strikes me he may be made to share with somebody before very long,\"\ncommented Brown half aloud. \"No, no. The proper way is to kill him the\nfirst chance you get, and then you can do what you like,\" Cornelius\nwould insist earnestly. \"I have lived for many years here, and I am\ngiving you a friend's advice.\" 'In such converse and in gloating over the view of Patusan, which he had\ndetermined in his mind should become his prey, Brown whiled away most\nof the afternoon, his men, meantime, resting. On that day Dain Waris's\nfleet of canoes stole one by one under the shore farthest from the\ncreek, and went down to close the river against his retreat. Of this\nBrown was not aware, and Kassim, who came up the knoll an hour before\nsunset, took good care not to enlighten him. He wanted the white\nman's ship to come up the river, and this news, he feared, would be\ndiscouraging. He was very pressing with Brown to send the \"order,\"\noffering at the same time a trusty messenger, who for greater secrecy\n(as he explained) would make his way by land to the mouth of the river\nand deliver the \"order\" on board. After some reflection Brown judged\nit expedient to tear a page out of his pocket-book, on which he simply\nwrote, \"We are getting on. Big job. Detain the man.\" The stolid youth\nselected by Kassim for that service performed it faithfully, and was\nrewarded by being suddenly tipped, head first, into the schooner's empty\nhold by the ex-beachcomber and the Chinaman, who thereupon hastened to\nput on the hatches. What became of him afterwards Brown did not say.' 'Brown's object was to gain time by fooling with Kassim's diplomacy. For\ndoing a real stroke of business he could not help thinking the white man\nwas the person to work with. He could not imagine such a chap (who must\nbe confoundedly clever after all to get hold of the natives like\nthat) refusing a help that would do away with the necessity for slow,\ncautious, risky cheating, that imposed itself as the only possible\nline of conduct for a single-handed man. He, Brown, would offer him\nthe power. No man could hesitate. Everything was in coming to a clear\nunderstanding. Of course they would share. The idea of there being a\nfort--all ready to his hand--a real fort, with artillery (he knew this\nfrom Cornelius), excited him. Let him only once get in and . . . He\nwould impose modest conditions. Not too low, though. The man was no\nfool, it seemed. They would work like brothers till . . . till the time\ncame for a quarrel and a shot that would settle all accounts. With grim\nimpatience of plunder he wished himself to be talking with the man now. The land already seemed to be his to tear to pieces, squeeze, and throw\naway. Meantime Kassim had to be fooled for the sake of food first--and\nfor a second string. But the principal thing was to get something to eat\nfrom day to day. Besides, he was not averse to begin fighting on that\nRajah's account, and teach a lesson to those people who had received him\nwith shots. The lust of battle was upon him. 'I am sorry that I can't give you this part of the story, which of\ncourse I have mainly from Brown, in Brown's own words. There was in the\nbroken, violent speech of that man, unveiling before me his thoughts\nwith the very hand of Death upon his throat, an undisguised ruthlessness\nof purpose, a strange vengeful attitude towards his own past, and a\nblind belief in the righteousness of his will against all mankind,\nsomething of that feeling which could induce the leader of a horde of\nwandering cut-throats to call himself proudly the Scourge of God.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-02, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-05 The user is reading a book]\n<User> No doubt the natural senseless ferocity which is the basis of such\na character was exasperated by failure, ill-luck, and the recent\nprivations, as well as by the desperate position in which he found\nhimself; but what was most remarkable of all was this, that while he\nplanned treacherous alliances, had already settled in his own mind the\nfate of the white man, and intrigued in an overbearing, offhand manner\nwith Kassim, one could perceive that what he had really desired, almost\nin spite of himself, was to play havoc with that jungle town which had\ndefied him, to see it strewn over with corpses and enveloped in flames. Listening to his pitiless, panting voice, I could imagine how he must\nhave looked at it from the hillock, peopling it with images of murder\nand rapine. The part nearest to the creek wore an abandoned aspect,\nthough as a matter of fact every house concealed a few armed men on the\nalert. Suddenly beyond the stretch of waste ground, interspersed with\nsmall patches of low dense bush, excavations, heaps of rubbish, with\ntrodden paths between, a man, solitary and looking very small, strolled\nout into the deserted opening of the street between the shut-up, dark,\nlifeless buildings at the end. Perhaps one of the inhabitants, who had\nfled to the other bank of the river, coming back for some object of\ndomestic use. Evidently he supposed himself quite safe at that distance\nfrom the hill on the other side of the creek. A light stockade, set up\nhastily, was just round the turn of the street, full of his friends. He moved leisurely. Brown saw him, and instantly called to his side the\nYankee deserter, who acted as a sort of second in command. This lanky,\nloose-jointed fellow came forward, wooden-faced, trailing his rifle\nlazily. When he understood what was wanted from him a homicidal and\nconceited smile uncovered his teeth, making two deep folds down his\nsallow, leathery cheeks. He prided himself on being a dead shot. He\ndropped on one knee, and taking aim from a steady rest through the\nunlopped branches of a felled tree, fired, and at once stood up to look. The man, far away, turned his head to the report, made another step\nforward, seemed to hesitate, and abruptly got down on his hands and\nknees. In the silence that fell upon the sharp crack of the rifle, the\ndead shot, keeping his eyes fixed upon the quarry, guessed that \"this\nthere coon's health would never be a source of anxiety to his friends\nany more.\" The man's limbs were seen to move rapidly under his body\nin an endeavour to run on all-fours. In that empty space arose a\nmultitudinous shout of dismay and surprise. The man sank flat, face\ndown, and moved no more. \"That showed them what we could do,\" said Brown\nto me. \"Struck the fear of sudden death into them. That was what we\nwanted. They were two hundred to one, and this gave them something to\nthink over for the night. Not one of them had an idea of such a long\nshot before. That beggar belonging to the Rajah scooted down-hill with\nhis eyes hanging out of his head.\" 'As he was telling me this he tried with a shaking hand to wipe the thin\nfoam on his blue lips. \"Two hundred to one. Two hundred to one . . . strike terror, . . . terror, terror, I tell you. . . .\" His own eyes\nwere starting out of their sockets. He fell back, clawing the air with\nskinny fingers, sat up again, bowed and hairy, glared at me sideways\nlike some man-beast of folk-lore, with open mouth in his miserable and\nawful agony before he got his speech back after that fit. There are\nsights one never forgets. 'Furthermore, to draw the enemy's fire and locate such parties as\nmight have been hiding in the bushes along the creek, Brown ordered the\nSolomon Islander to go down to the boat and bring an oar, as you send a\nspaniel after a stick into the water. This failed, and the fellow came\nback without a single shot having been fired at him from anywhere. \"There's nobody,\" opined some of the men. It is \"onnatural,\" remarked\nthe Yankee. Kassim had gone, by that time, very much impressed, pleased\ntoo, and also uneasy. Pursuing his tortuous policy, he had dispatched a\nmessage to Dain Waris warning him to look out for the white men's\nship, which, he had had information, was about to come up the river. He minimised its strength and exhorted him to oppose its passage. This\ndouble-dealing answered his purpose, which was to keep the Bugis forces\ndivided and to weaken them by fighting. On the other hand, he had in\nthe course of that day sent word to the assembled Bugis chiefs in town,\nassuring them that he was trying to induce the invaders to retire; his\nmessages to the fort asked earnestly for powder for the Rajah's men. It\nwas a long time since Tunku Allang had had ammunition for the score or\nso of old muskets rusting in their arm-racks in the audience-hall. The open intercourse between the hill and the palace unsettled all the\nminds. It was already time for men to take sides, it began to be said. There would soon be much bloodshed, and thereafter great trouble for\nmany people. The social fabric of orderly, peaceful life, when every man\nwas sure of to-morrow, the edifice raised by Jim's hands, seemed on that\nevening ready to collapse into a ruin reeking with blood. The poorer\nfolk were already taking to the bush or flying up the river. A good many\nof the upper class judged it necessary to go and pay their court to the\nRajah. The Rajah's youths jostled them rudely. Old Tunku Allang, almost\nout of his mind with fear and indecision, either kept a sullen silence\nor abused them violently for daring to come with empty hands: they\ndeparted very much frightened; only old Doramin kept his countrymen\ntogether and pursued his tactics inflexibly. Enthroned in a big chair\nbehind the improvised stockade, he issued his orders in a deep veiled\nrumble, unmoved, like a deaf man, in the flying rumours. 'Dusk fell, hiding first the body of the dead man, which had been left\nlying with arms outstretched as if nailed to the ground, and then the\nrevolving sphere of the night rolled smoothly over Patusan and came to\na rest, showering the glitter of countless worlds upon the earth. Again,\nin the exposed part of the town big fires blazed along the only street,\nrevealing from distance to distance upon their glares the falling\nstraight lines of roofs, the fragments of wattled walls jumbled in\nconfusion, here and there a whole hut elevated in the glow upon the\nvertical black stripes of a group of high piles and all this line of\ndwellings, revealed in patches by the swaying flames, seemed to flicker\ntortuously away up-river into the gloom at the heart of the land. A\ngreat silence, in which the looms of successive fires played without\nnoise, extended into the darkness at the foot of the hill; but the\nother bank of the river, all dark save for a solitary bonfire at the\nriver-front before the fort, sent out into the air an increasing tremor\nthat might have been the stamping of a multitude of feet, the hum of\nmany voices, or the fall of an immensely distant waterfall. It was\nthen, Brown confessed to me, while, turning his back on his men, he sat\nlooking at it all, that notwithstanding his disdain, his ruthless faith\nin himself, a feeling came over him that at last he had run his head\nagainst a stone wall. Had his boat been afloat at the time, he believed\nhe would have tried to steal away, taking his chances of a long chase\ndown the river and of starvation at sea. It is very doubtful whether he\nwould have succeeded in getting away. However, he didn't try this. For\nanother moment he had a passing thought of trying to rush the town,\nbut he perceived very well that in the end he would find himself in the\nlighted street, where they would be shot down like dogs from the houses. They were two hundred to one--he thought, while his men, huddling round\ntwo heaps of smouldering embers, munched the last of the bananas and\nroasted the few yams they owed to Kassim's diplomacy. Cornelius sat\namongst them dozing sulkily. 'Then one of the whites remembered that some tobacco had been left in\nthe boat, and, encouraged by the impunity of the Solomon Islander,\nsaid he would go to fetch it. At this all the others shook off\ntheir despondency.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-05, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-06 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Brown applied to, said, \"Go, and be d--d to you,\"\nscornfully. He didn't think there was any danger in going to the creek\nin the dark. The man threw a leg over the tree-trunk and disappeared. A\nmoment later he was heard clambering into the boat and then clambering\nout. \"I've got it,\" he cried. A flash and a report at the very foot of\nthe hill followed. \"I am hit,\" yelled the man. \"Look out, look out--I am\nhit,\" and instantly all the rifles went off. The hill squirted fire\nand noise into the night like a little volcano, and when Brown and\nthe Yankee with curses and cuffs stopped the panic-stricken firing, a\nprofound, weary groan floated up from the creek, succeeded by a plaint\nwhose heartrending sadness was like some poison turning the blood\ncold in the veins. Then a strong voice pronounced several distinct\nincomprehensible words somewhere beyond the creek. \"Let no one fire,\"\nshouted Brown. \"What does it mean?\" . . . \"Do you hear on the hill? Do you hear? Do you hear?\" repeated the voice three times. Cornelius\ntranslated, and then prompted the answer. \"Speak,\" cried Brown, \"we\nhear.\" Then the voice, declaiming in the sonorous inflated tone of a\nherald, and shifting continually on the edge of the vague waste-land,\nproclaimed that between the men of the Bugis nation living in Patusan\nand the white men on the hill and those with them, there would be no\nfaith, no compassion, no speech, no peace. A bush rustled; a haphazard\nvolley rang out. \"Dam' foolishness,\" muttered the Yankee, vexedly\ngrounding the butt. Cornelius translated. The wounded man below\nthe hill, after crying out twice, \"Take me up! take me up!\" went on\ncomplaining in moans. While he had kept on the blackened earth of the\nslope, and afterwards crouching in the boat, he had been safe enough. It seems that in his joy at finding the tobacco he forgot himself and\njumped out on her off-side, as it were. The white boat, lying high and\ndry, showed him up; the creek was no more than seven yards wide in that\nplace, and there happened to be a man crouching in the bush on the other\nbank. 'He was a Bugis of Tondano only lately come to Patusan, and a relation\nof the man shot in the afternoon. That famous long shot had indeed\nappalled the beholders. The man in utter security had been struck down,\nin full view of his friends, dropping with a joke on his lips, and they\nseemed to see in the act an atrocity which had stirred a bitter rage. That relation of his, Si-Lapa by name, was then with Doramin in the\nstockade only a few feet away. You who know these chaps must admit that\nthe fellow showed an unusual pluck by volunteering to carry the message,\nalone, in the dark. Creeping across the open ground, he had deviated\nto the left and found himself opposite the boat. He was startled when\nBrown's man shouted. He came to a sitting position with his gun to his\nshoulder, and when the other jumped out, exposing himself, he pulled the\ntrigger and lodged three jagged slugs point-blank into the poor wretch's\nstomach. Then, lying flat on his face, he gave himself up for dead,\nwhile a thin hail of lead chopped and swished the bushes close on his\nright hand; afterwards he delivered his speech shouting, bent double,\ndodging all the time in cover. With the last word he leaped sideways,\nlay close for a while, and afterwards got back to the houses unharmed,\nhaving achieved on that night such a renown as his children will not\nwillingly allow to die. 'And on the hill the forlorn band let the two little heaps of embers\ngo out under their bowed heads. They sat dejected on the ground with\ncompressed lips and downcast eyes, listening to their comrade below. He\nwas a strong man and died hard, with moans now loud, now sinking to a\nstrange confidential note of pain. Sometimes he shrieked, and again,\nafter a period of silence, he could be heard muttering deliriously a\nlong and unintelligible complaint. Never for a moment did he cease. '\"What's the good?\" Brown had said unmoved once, seeing the Yankee, who\nhad been swearing under his breath, prepare to go down. \"That's so,\"\nassented the deserter, reluctantly desisting. \"There's no encouragement\nfor wounded men here. Only his noise is calculated to make all the\nothers think too much of the hereafter, cap'n.\" \"Water!\" cried the\nwounded man in an extraordinarily clear vigorous voice, and then went\noff moaning feebly. \"Ay, water. Water will do it,\" muttered the other to\nhimself, resignedly. \"Plenty by-and-by. The tide is flowing.\" 'At last the tide flowed, silencing the plaint and the cries of pain,\nand the dawn was near when Brown, sitting with his chin in the palm of\nhis hand before Patusan, as one might stare at the unscalable side of a\nmountain, heard the brief ringing bark of a brass 6-pounder far away\nin town somewhere. \"What's this?\" he asked of Cornelius, who hung about\nhim. Cornelius listened. A muffled roaring shout rolled down-river over\nthe town; a big drum began to throb, and others responded, pulsating and\ndroning. Tiny scattered lights began to twinkle in the dark half of the\ntown, while the part lighted by the loom of fires hummed with a deep and\nprolonged murmur. \"He has come,\" said Cornelius. \"What? Already? Are\nyou sure?\" Brown asked. \"Yes! yes! Sure. Listen to the noise.\" \"What\nare they making that row about?\" pursued Brown. \"For joy,\" snorted\nCornelius; \"he is a very great man, but all the same, he knows no more\nthan a child, and so they make a great noise to please him, because they\nknow no better.\" \"Look here,\" said Brown, \"how is one to get at him?\" \"He shall come to talk to you,\" Cornelius declared. \"What do you mean? Come down here strolling as it were?\" Cornelius nodded vigorously in the\ndark. \"Yes. He will come straight here and talk to you. He is just like\na fool. You shall see what a fool he is.\" Brown was incredulous. \"You\nshall see; you shall see,\" repeated Cornelius. \"He is not afraid--not\nafraid of anything. He will come and order you to leave his people\nalone. Everybody must leave his people alone. He is like a little child. He will come to you straight.\" Alas! he knew Jim well--that \"mean little\nskunk,\" as Brown called him to me. \"Yes, certainly,\" he pursued with\nardour, \"and then, captain, you tell that tall man with a gun to shoot\nhim. Just you kill him, and you will frighten everybody so much that\nyou can do anything you like with them afterwards--get what you like--go\naway when you like. Ha! ha! ha! Fine . . .\" He almost danced with\nimpatience and eagerness; and Brown, looking over his shoulder at him,\ncould see, shown up by the pitiless dawn, his men drenched with dew,\nsitting amongst the cold ashes and the litter of the camp, haggard,\ncowed, and in rags.' 'To the very last moment, till the full day came upon them with a\nspring, the fires on the west bank blazed bright and clear; and then\nBrown saw in a knot of coloured figures motionless between the advanced\nhouses a man in European clothes, in a helmet, all white. \"That's him;\nlook! look!\" Cornelius said excitedly. All Brown's men had sprung up and\ncrowded at his back with lustreless eyes. The group of vivid colours\nand dark faces with the white figure in their midst were observing the\nknoll. Brown could see naked arms being raised to shade the eyes and\nother brown arms pointing. What should he do? He looked around, and the\nforests that faced him on all sides walled the cock-pit of an unequal\ncontest. He looked once more at his men. A contempt, a weariness, the\ndesire of life, the wish to try for one more chance--for some other\ngrave--struggled in his breast. From the outline the figure presented\nit seemed to him that the white man there, backed up by all the power of\nthe land, was examining his position through binoculars.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-06, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-09 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Brown jumped up\non the log, throwing his arms up, the palms outwards. The coloured group\nclosed round the white man, and fell back twice before he got clear of\nthem, walking slowly alone. Brown remained standing on the log till\nJim, appearing and disappearing between the patches of thorny scrub, had\nnearly reached the creek; then Brown jumped off and went down to meet\nhim on his side. 'They met, I should think, not very far from the place, perhaps on the\nvery spot, where Jim took the second desperate leap of his life--the\nleap that landed him into the life of Patusan, into the trust, the love,\nthe confidence of the people. They faced each other across the creek,\nand with steady eyes tried to understand each other before they opened\ntheir lips. Their antagonism must have been expressed in their glances;\nI know that Brown hated Jim at first sight. Whatever hopes he might have\nhad vanished at once. This was not the man he had expected to see. He\nhated him for this--and in a checked flannel shirt with sleeves cut\noff at the elbows, grey bearded, with a sunken, sun-blackened face--he\ncursed in his heart the other's youth and assurance, his clear eyes and\nhis untroubled bearing. That fellow had got in a long way before him! He did not look like a man who would be willing to give anything for\nassistance. He had all the advantages on his side--possession, security,\npower; he was on the side of an overwhelming force! He was not hungry\nand desperate, and he did not seem in the least afraid. And there was\nsomething in the very neatness of Jim's clothes, from the white helmet\nto the canvas leggings and the pipeclayed shoes, which in Brown's sombre\nirritated eyes seemed to belong to things he had in the very shaping of\nhis life condemned and flouted. '\"Who are you?\" asked Jim at last, speaking in his usual voice. \"My\nname's Brown,\" answered the other loudly; \"Captain Brown. What's yours?\" and Jim after a little pause went on quietly, as If he had not heard:\n\"What made you come here?\" \"You want to know,\" said Brown bitterly. \"It's easy to tell. Hunger. And what made you?\" '\"The fellow started at this,\" said Brown, relating to me the opening of\nthis strange conversation between those two men, separated only by\nthe muddy bed of a creek, but standing on the opposite poles of that\nconception of life which includes all mankind--\"The fellow started at\nthis and got very red in the face. Too big to be questioned, I suppose. I told him that if he looked upon me as a dead man with whom you may\ntake liberties, he himself was not a whit better off really. I had\na fellow up there who had a bead drawn on him all the time, and only\nwaited for a sign from me. There was nothing to be shocked at in this. He had come down of his own free will. 'Let us agree,' said I, 'that we\nare both dead men, and let us talk on that basis, as equals. We are\nall equal before death,' I said. I admitted I was there like a rat in\na trap, but we had been driven to it, and even a trapped rat can give\na bite. He caught me up in a moment. 'Not if you don't go near the trap\ntill the rat is dead.' I told him that sort of game was good enough for\nthese native friends of his, but I would have thought him too white to\nserve even a rat so. Yes, I had wanted to talk with him. Not to beg\nfor my life, though. My fellows were--well--what they were--men like\nhimself, anyhow. All we wanted from him was to come on in the devil's\nname and have it out. 'God d--n it,' said I, while he stood there as\nstill as a wooden post, 'you don't want to come out here every day with\nyour glasses to count how many of us are left on our feet. Come. Either\nbring your infernal crowd along or let us go out and starve in the open\nsea, by God! You have been white once, for all your tall talk of this\nbeing your own people and you being one with them. Are you? And what the\ndevil do you get for it; what is it you've found here that is so d--d\nprecious? Hey? You don't want us to come down here perhaps--do you? You\nare two hundred to one. You don't want us to come down into the open. Ah! I promise you we shall give you some sport before you've done. You\ntalk about me making a cowardly set upon unoffending people. What's\nthat to me that they are unoffending, when I am starving for next to no\noffence? But I am not a coward. Don't you be one. Bring them along or,\nby all the fiends, we shall yet manage to send half your unoffending\ntown to heaven with us in smoke!'\" 'He was terrible--relating this to me--this tortured skeleton of a man\ndrawn up together with his face over his knees, upon a miserable bed in\nthat wretched hovel, and lifting his head to look at me with malignant\ntriumph. '\"That's what I told him--I knew what to say,\" he began again, feebly\nat first, but working himself up with incredible speed into a fiery\nutterance of his scorn. \"We aren't going into the forest to wander like\na string of living skeletons dropping one after another for ants to\ngo to work upon us before we are fairly dead. Oh no! . . . 'You don't\ndeserve a better fate,' he said. 'And what do you deserve,' I shouted\nat him, 'you that I find skulking here with your mouth full of your\nresponsibility, of innocent lives, of your infernal duty? What do\nyou know more of me than I know of you? I came here for food. D'ye\nhear?--food to fill our bellies. And what did _you_ come for? What did\nyou ask for when you came here? We don't ask you for anything but to\ngive us a fight or a clear road to go back whence we came. . . .' 'I\nwould fight with you now,' says he, pulling at his little moustache. 'And I would let you shoot me, and welcome,' I said. 'This is as good a\njumping-off place for me as another. I am sick of my infernal luck. But\nit would be too easy. There are my men in the same boat--and, by God, I\nam not the sort to jump out of trouble and leave them in a d--d lurch,'\nI said. He stood thinking for a while and then wanted to know what I\nhad done ('out there' he says, tossing his head down-stream) to be hazed\nabout so. 'Have we met to tell each other the story of our lives?' I\nasked him. 'Suppose you begin. No? Well, I am sure I don't want to hear. Keep it to yourself. I know it is no better than mine. I've lived--and\nso did you, though you talk as if you were one of those people that\nshould have wings so as to go about without touching the dirty earth. Well--it is dirty. I haven't got any wings. I am here because I was\nafraid once in my life. Want to know what of? Of a prison. That scares\nme, and you may know it--if it's any good to you. I won't ask you what\nscared you into this infernal hole, where you seem to have found pretty\npickings. That's your luck and this is mine--the privilege to beg for\nthe favour of being shot quickly, or else kicked out to go free and\nstarve in my own way.' . . .\" 'His debilitated body shook with an exultation so vehement, so assured,\nand so malicious that it seemed to have driven off the death waiting for\nhim in that hut. The corpse of his mad self-love uprose from rags and\ndestitution as from the dark horrors of a tomb. It is impossible to say\nhow much he lied to Jim then, how much he lied to me now--and to himself\nalways. Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory, and the truth of\nevery passion wants some pretence to make it live. Standing at the gate\nof the other world in the guise of a beggar, he had slapped this world's\nface, he had spat on it, he had thrown upon it an immensity of scorn\nand revolt at the bottom of his misdeeds. He had overcome them all--men,\nwomen, savages, traders, ruffians, missionaries--and Jim--\"that\nbeefy-faced beggar.\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-09, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-11 The user is reading a book]\n<User> I did not begrudge him this triumph in articulo\nmortis, this almost posthumous illusion of having trampled all the earth\nunder his feet. While he was boasting to me, in his sordid and repulsive\nagony, I couldn't help thinking of the chuckling talk relating to the\ntime of his greatest splendour when, during a year or more, Gentleman\nBrown's ship was to be seen, for many days on end, hovering off an islet\nbefringed with green upon azure, with the dark dot of the mission-house\non a white beach; while Gentleman Brown, ashore, was casting his spells\nover a romantic girl for whom Melanesia had been too much, and giving\nhopes of a remarkable conversion to her husband. The poor man, some time\nor other, had been heard to express the intention of winning \"Captain\nBrown to a better way of life.\" . . . \"Bag Gentleman Brown for\nGlory\"--as a leery-eyed loafer expressed it once--\"just to let them see\nup above what a Western Pacific trading skipper looks like.\" And this\nwas the man, too, who had run off with a dying woman, and had shed tears\nover her body. \"Carried on like a big baby,\" his then mate was never\ntired of telling, \"and where the fun came in may I be kicked to death by\ndiseased Kanakas if _I_ know. Why, gents! she was too far gone when he\nbrought her aboard to know him; she just lay there on her back in his\nbunk staring at the beam with awful shining eyes--and then she died. Dam' bad sort of fever, I guess. . . .\" I remembered all these stories\nwhile, wiping his matted lump of a beard with a livid hand, he was\ntelling me from his noisome couch how he got round, got in, got home,\non that confounded, immaculate, don't-you-touch-me sort of fellow. He\nadmitted that he couldn't be scared, but there was a way, \"as broad as\na turnpike, to get in and shake his twopenny soul around and inside out\nand upside down--by God! \"''I don't think he could do more than perhaps look upon that straight\npath. He seemed to have been puzzled by what he saw, for he interrupted\nhimself in his narrative more than once to exclaim, \"He nearly slipped\nfrom me there. I could not make him out. Who was he?\" And after\nglaring at me wildly he would go on, jubilating and sneering. To me the\nconversation of these two across the creek appears now as the deadliest\nkind of duel on which Fate looked on with her cold-eyed knowledge of the\nend. No, he didn't turn Jim's soul inside out, but I am much mistaken if\nthe spirit so utterly out of his reach had not been made to taste to the\nfull the bitterness of that contest. These were the emissaries with whom\nthe world he had renounced was pursuing him in his retreat--white men\nfrom \"out there\" where he did not think himself good enough to live. This was all that came to him--a menace, a shock, a danger to his\nwork. I suppose it is this sad, half-resentful, half-resigned feeling,\npiercing through the few words Jim said now and then, that puzzled Brown\nso much in the reading of his character. Some great men owe most of\ntheir greatness to the ability of detecting in those they destine for\ntheir tools the exact quality of strength that matters for their work;\nand Brown, as though he had been really great, had a satanic gift of\nfinding out the best and the weakest spot in his victims. He admitted\nto me that Jim wasn't of the sort that can be got over by truckling, and\naccordingly he took care to show himself as a man confronting without\ndismay ill-luck, censure, and disaster. The smuggling of a few guns was\nno great crime, he pointed out. As to coming to Patusan, who had the\nright to say he hadn't come to beg? The infernal people here let loose\nat him from both banks without staying to ask questions. He made\nthe point brazenly, for, in truth, Dain Waris's energetic action had\nprevented the greatest calamities; because Brown told me distinctly\nthat, perceiving the size of the place, he had resolved instantly in his\nmind that as soon as he had gained a footing he would set fire right and\nleft, and begin by shooting down everything living in sight, in order to\ncow and terrify the population. The disproportion of forces was so great\nthat this was the only way giving him the slightest chance of attaining\nhis ends--he argued in a fit of coughing. But he didn't tell Jim this. As to the hardships and starvation they had gone through, these had been\nvery real; it was enough to look at his band. He made, at the sound of a\nshrill whistle, all his men appear standing in a row on the logs in full\nview, so that Jim could see them. For the killing of the man, it had\nbeen done--well, it had--but was not this war, bloody war--in a corner? and the fellow had been killed cleanly, shot through the chest, not like\nthat poor devil of his lying now in the creek. They had to listen to him\ndying for six hours, with his entrails torn with slugs. At any rate this\nwas a life for a life. . . . And all this was said with the weariness,\nwith the recklessness of a man spurred on and on by ill-luck till he\ncares not where he runs. When he asked Jim, with a sort of brusque\ndespairing frankness, whether he himself--straight now--didn't\nunderstand that when \"it came to saving one's life in the dark, one\ndidn't care who else went--three, thirty, three hundred people\"--it was\nas if a demon had been whispering advice in his ear. \"I made him wince,\"\nboasted Brown to me. \"He very soon left off coming the righteous over\nme. He just stood there with nothing to say, and looking as black as\nthunder--not at me--on the ground.\" He asked Jim whether he had nothing\nfishy in his life to remember that he was so damnedly hard upon a man\ntrying to get out of a deadly hole by the first means that came to\nhand--and so on, and so on. And there ran through the rough talk a\nvein of subtle reference to their common blood, an assumption of common\nexperience; a sickening suggestion of common guilt, of secret knowledge\nthat was like a bond of their minds and of their hearts. 'At last Brown threw himself down full length and watched Jim out of\nthe corners of his eyes. Jim on his side of the creek stood thinking and\nswitching his leg. The houses in view were silent, as if a pestilence\nhad swept them clean of every breath of life; but many invisible eyes\nwere turned, from within, upon the two men with the creek between them,\na stranded white boat, and the body of the third man half sunk in the\nmud. On the river canoes were moving again, for Patusan was recovering\nits belief in the stability of earthly institutions since the return of\nthe white lord. The right bank, the platforms of the houses, the rafts\nmoored along the shores, even the roofs of bathing-huts, were covered\nwith people that, far away out of earshot and almost out of sight, were\nstraining their eyes towards the knoll beyond the Rajah's stockade. Within the wide irregular ring of forests, broken in two places by the\nsheen of the river, there was a silence. \"Will you promise to leave the\ncoast?\" Jim asked. Brown lifted and let fall his hand, giving everything\nup as it were--accepting the inevitable. \"And surrender your arms?\" Jim\nwent on. Brown sat up and glared across. \"Surrender our arms! Not till\nyou come to take them out of our stiff hands. You think I am gone crazy\nwith funk? Oh no! That and the rags I stand in is all I have got in the\nworld, besides a few more breechloaders on board; and I expect to sell\nthe lot in Madagascar, if I ever get so far--begging my way from ship to\nship.\" 'Jim said nothing to this. At last, throwing away the switch he held in\nhis hand, he said, as if speaking to himself, \"I don't know whether I\nhave the power.\" . . . \"You don't know! And you wanted me just now to\ngive up my arms! That's good, too,\" cried Brown; \"Suppose they say one\nthing to you, and do the other thing to me.\" He calmed down markedly. \"I\ndare say you have the power, or what's the meaning of all this talk?\" he\ncontinued. \"What did you come down here for? To pass the time of day?\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-11, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-12 The user is reading a book]\n<User> '\"Very well,\" said Jim, lifting his head suddenly after a long silence. \"You shall have a clear road or else a clear fight.\" He turned on his\nheel and walked away. 'Brown got up at once, but he did not go up the hill till he had seen\nJim disappear between the first houses. He never set his eyes on him\nagain. On his way back he met Cornelius slouching down with his head\nbetween his shoulders. He stopped before Brown. \"Why didn't you kill\nhim?\" he demanded in a sour, discontented voice. \"Because I could do\nbetter than that,\" Brown said with an amused smile. \"Never! never!\" protested Cornelius with energy. \"Couldn't. I have lived here for many\nyears.\" Brown looked up at him curiously. There were many sides to the\nlife of that place in arms against him; things he would never find out. Cornelius slunk past dejectedly in the direction of the river. He was\nnow leaving his new friends; he accepted the disappointing course of\nevents with a sulky obstinacy which seemed to draw more together his\nlittle yellow old face; and as he went down he glanced askant here and\nthere, never giving up his fixed idea. 'Henceforth events move fast without a check, flowing from the very\nhearts of men like a stream from a dark source, and we see Jim amongst\nthem, mostly through Tamb' Itam's eyes. The girl's eyes had watched him\ntoo, but her life is too much entwined with his: there is her passion,\nher wonder, her anger, and, above all, her fear and her unforgiving\nlove. Of the faithful servant, uncomprehending as the rest of them, it\nis the fidelity alone that comes into play; a fidelity and a belief in\nhis lord so strong that even amazement is subdued to a sort of saddened\nacceptance of a mysterious failure. He has eyes only for one figure,\nand through all the mazes of bewilderment he preserves his air of\nguardianship, of obedience, of care. 'His master came back from his talk with the white men, walking slowly\ntowards the stockade in the street. Everybody was rejoiced to see him\nreturn, for while he was away every man had been afraid not only of him\nbeing killed, but also of what would come after. Jim went into one of\nthe houses, where old Doramin had retired, and remained alone for a\nlong time with the head of the Bugis settlers. No doubt he discussed\nthe course to follow with him then, but no man was present at the\nconversation. Only Tamb' Itam, keeping as close to the door as he could,\nheard his master say, \"Yes. I shall let all the people know that such\nis my wish; but I spoke to you, O Doramin, before all the others, and\nalone; for you know my heart as well as I know yours and its greatest\ndesire. And you know well also that I have no thought but for the\npeople's good.\" Then his master, lifting the sheeting in the doorway,\nwent out, and he, Tamb' Itam, had a glimpse of old Doramin within,\nsitting in the chair with his hands on his knees, and looking between\nhis feet. Afterwards he followed his master to the fort, where all the\nprincipal Bugis and Patusan inhabitants had been summoned for a talk. Tamb' Itam himself hoped there would be some fighting. \"What was it but\nthe taking of another hill?\" he exclaimed regretfully. However, in the\ntown many hoped that the rapacious strangers would be induced, by the\nsight of so many brave men making ready to fight, to go away. It would\nbe a good thing if they went away. Since Jim's arrival had been made\nknown before daylight by the gun fired from the fort and the beating of\nthe big drum there, the fear that had hung over Patusan had broken and\nsubsided like a wave on a rock, leaving the seething foam of excitement,\ncuriosity, and endless speculation. Half of the population had been\nousted out of their homes for purposes of defence, and were living in\nthe street on the left side of the river, crowding round the fort, and\nin momentary expectation of seeing their abandoned dwellings on the\nthreatened bank burst into flames. The general anxiety was to see the\nmatter settled quickly. Food, through Jewel's care, had been served\nout to the refugees. Nobody knew what their white man would do. Some\nremarked that it was worse than in Sherif Ali's war. Then many people\ndid not care; now everybody had something to lose. The movements of\ncanoes passing to and fro between the two parts of the town were watched\nwith interest. A couple of Bugis war-boats lay anchored in the middle of\nthe stream to protect the river, and a thread of smoke stood at the bow\nof each; the men in them were cooking their midday rice when Jim, after\nhis interviews with Brown and Doramin, crossed the river and entered by\nthe water-gate of his fort. The people inside crowded round him, so that\nhe could hardly make his way to the house. They had not seen him before,\nbecause on his arrival during the night he had only exchanged a few\nwords with the girl, who had come down to the landing-stage for the\npurpose, and had then gone on at once to join the chiefs and the\nfighting men on the other bank. People shouted greetings after him. One old woman raised a laugh by pushing her way to the front madly and\nenjoining him in a scolding voice to see to it that her two sons, who\nwere with Doramin, did not come to harm at the hands of the robbers. Several of the bystanders tried to pull her away, but she struggled and\ncried, \"Let me go. What is this, O Muslims? This laughter is unseemly. Are they not cruel, bloodthirsty robbers bent on killing?\" \"Let her be,\"\nsaid Jim, and as a silence fell suddenly, he said slowly, \"Everybody\nshall be safe.\" He entered the house before the great sigh, and the loud\nmurmurs of satisfaction, had died out. 'There's no doubt his mind was made up that Brown should have his way\nclear back to the sea. His fate, revolted, was forcing his hand. He\nhad for the first time to affirm his will in the face of outspoken\nopposition. \"There was much talk, and at first my master was silent,\"\nTamb' Itam said. \"Darkness came, and then I lit the candles on the long\ntable. The chiefs sat on each side, and the lady remained by my master's\nright hand.\" 'When he began to speak, the unaccustomed difficulty seemed only to\nfix his resolve more immovably. The white men were now waiting for his\nanswer on the hill. Their chief had spoken to him in the language of his\nown people, making clear many things difficult to explain in any other\nspeech. They were erring men whom suffering had made blind to right and\nwrong. It is true that lives had been lost already, but why lose more? He declared to his hearers, the assembled heads of the people, that\ntheir welfare was his welfare, their losses his losses, their mourning\nhis mourning. He looked round at the grave listening faces and told them\nto remember that they had fought and worked side by side. They knew his\ncourage . . . Here a murmur interrupted him . . . And that he had never\ndeceived them. For many years they had dwelt together. He loved the\nland and the people living in it with a very great love. He was ready to\nanswer with his life for any harm that should come to them if the white\nmen with beards were allowed to retire. They were evil-doers, but their\ndestiny had been evil, too. Had he ever advised them ill? Had his words\never brought suffering to the people? he asked. He believed that it\nwould be best to let these whites and their followers go with their\nlives. It would be a small gift. \"I whom you have tried and found always\ntrue ask you to let them go.\" He turned to Doramin. The old nakhoda made\nno movement. \"Then,\" said Jim, \"call in Dain Waris, your son, my friend,\nfor in this business I shall not lead.\"'\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-12, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-01-12", "answer": "Dain Waris, Gentleman Brown, Jim, Doramin, Rajah Allang, Cornelius, Patusan, council of war, alliance with Brown, go-between, pirate attack, canoes downstream, avenue of escape, double-cross, villager shot, psychological edge, Bugis, drums in village, fires lit, Jim's return, Brown's stronghold, face-to-face meeting, \"Hunger\", white men, fear of prison, Marlow, Brown's deathbed, clear road, clear fight, escape unharmed, Jim's leadership, Doramin's reluctance, appeal to people, refusal to lead, command to Dain Waris"}]