with the most
innocent expression, as if he were talking about the weather. I had to
force myself not to draw away from him, and looked somewhat anxiously
into his face; but Bourbaki stared quietly into the distance, as if
dreaming of the past excitements and the coming delights; then he
picked up a cocoa-nut and tore the husk off with his strong teeth. It
made me shudder to watch his brutish movements, but he was perfectly
happy that morning, willing and obedient. At noon he went away to
his horrid feast, and for two days we saw nobody.

We passed the time as usual; the weather was rainy again, and
everything seemed grey,--the sky, the sea and the shore, and our
mood. One is so dependent on surroundings.

On the third day Bourbaki came back, a little tired, but evidently
satisfied. Some of his friends accompanied him, and he brought word
that the chief had given permission for a few boys to enlist, but
that we would have to wait about ten days until he could come to
the shore himself. Not wishing to spend the ten days there, doing
absolutely nothing, we decided to go farther south, to Tesbel Bay,
and try our luck at recruiting there, as we had another boy, Macao,
from that district. George gave leave to Bourbaki, who had been
somewhat savage these last days, to stay at home till our return, and
he seemed delighted to have a holiday. We were all the more surprised
when, just before we weighed anchor, Bourbaki came back, shaking hands
without a word. We were quite touched by this remarkable sign of his
affection, pardoned his many objectionable ways, and never thought
that perhaps he might have ample reason not to feel altogether safe
and comfortable at home.

The wind being contrary, we had to tack about all night long without
advancing. Squalls rushed over the water, and then, again, the breeze
died down completely, only black, jagged clouds drifted westward
across the sky, and here and there a few stars were visible. The
cutter's deck was crowded with stuff, and there seemed less room for
us than ever, except in the hateful cabin. The boys sang monotonously
"for wind," quite convinced that the next breeze would be due to their
efforts. A fat old man sang all night long in falsetto in three notes;
it was unbearably silly and irritating, yet one could hardly stop the
poor devil and rob him of his only pleasure in that dark night. We
felt damp, restless and sleepless, and tried in vain to find some
comfort. Next eve