Babalatchi

"Babalatchi," he called briskly, giving him a slight kick.

Almayer's Folly: a story of an Eastern river Joseph Conrad 1890

"Babalatchi," he said to the exhausted statesman, "fetch the box of music the white captain gave me.

Almayer's Folly: a story of an Eastern river Joseph Conrad 1890

Babalatchi, his chin resting on the head of his staff and his one eye gazing steadily at the shapeless mass of broken limbs, torn flesh, and bloodstained rags.

Almayer's Folly 2006

“Babalatchi,” he called briskly, giving him a slight kick.

Almayer's Folly 2006

Almayer, bewildered, looked in turn at his wife, at Mahmat, at Babalatchi, and at last arrested his fascinated gaze on the body lying on the mud with covered face in a grotesquely unnatural contortion of mangled and broken limbs, one twisted and lacerated arm, with white bones protruding in many places through the torn flesh, stretched out; the hand with outspread fingers nearly touching his foot.

Almayer's Folly 2006

Babalatchi stretched himself yawning, but Lakamba, in the flattering consciousness of a knotty problem solved by his own unaided intellectual efforts, grew suddenly very wakeful.

Almayer's Folly 2006

Babalatchi picked up his staff and prepared to go.

Almayer's Folly 2006

Babalatchi was left alone by the corpse that laid rigid under the white cloth in the bright sunshine.

Almayer's Folly 2006

“No, he will not go alone,” slowly repeated Mrs. Almayer, with a thoughtful air, as she crept into the passage after seeing Babalatchi disappear round the corner of the house.

Almayer's Folly 2006

Arab cursing inwardly the wily dog, while Babalatchi went on his way walking on the dusty path, his body swaying, his chin with its few grey hairs pushed forward, resembling an inquisitive goat bent on some unlawful expedition.

Almayer's Folly 2006