they carefully hid in their belts. Our
stock of cartridges impressed them deeply, and there was no end of
whistling and grunting. Sugar and tea were objects of suspicion. They
thought them poison, and took some along, probably to experiment on
a good friend or a woman. Matches were stuck into the hair, the beard
or the perforated ears. Pictures were quite incomprehensible.

After an hour they left, less frightened than before, but still very
glad to leave all the mysterious and uncanny things behind. Bourbaki
made fun of their innocence, and thought himself very civilized,
but he himself was dreadfully afraid of my camera: "White man he
savee too much."

The weather cleared towards evening. Some natives stayed on the shore
all night, lighted fires and sang songs in anticipation of the coming
dance. Our boys mimicked them, laughed at them and felt very superior,
though we whites failed to see much difference, and, as a matter of
fact, a short time after having returned home these boys can hardly
be told from ordinary bushmen. The shrieks of the savages pierced the
velvet of the night like daggers, but by and by they quieted down,
and we heard nothing more but the rhythmic rise and fall of the surf.

In the silver light of the rising moon the boats rolled gently behind
the ship like dark spots, and light clouds glided westward across
the stars, eternally rising behind the black cliffs and disappearing
in the universal dimness. We were asleep on deck, when suddenly a
violent shower woke us up and banished us into that terrible cabin.

No natives came next day; they were all busy preparing the feast. We
had nothing to do but to loaf on the beach or on board, and smoke,
as we had no fishing-tackle and no animals to shoot. The grey sky,
the vague light, the thin rain, were depressing, and all sorts
of useless thoughts came to us. We noticed the hardships of our
existence on board, felt that we were wasting time, grew irritable and
dissatisfied. If only my companion had been less sulky! But with him
there could be no pleasant chat, no cosy evening hour over a cup of
tea and a pipe; and I would almost have preferred being alone to this
solitude a deux. I sat on deck and listened to the breakers. Often
they sounded like a rushing express train and awakened reminiscences
of travel and movement. The cool wind blew softly from afar, and
I could understand for the first time that longing that asks the
winds for news of home and