so crushed that when it
was finally hauled up and lowered safely into the boat, it collapsed
in a heap, with blood flowing from its mouth. The coolies did it all
very badly--they had no system, and as Mercier could not speak to them
in their language, he could not direct them properly. Besides, he was
no organiser himself, and probably could not have directed them
properly had he been able to speak to them. All he could do,
therefore, was to look on, and let them do it in their own way.
Sometimes as an animal was being raised, its horns would break, and it
would be lowered with a bleeding head, while the coolies stood by and
grinned, and considered it a joke. Mercier was still sensitive on some
points, and while long ago he had ceased to find any beauty in the
island, he was nevertheless disgusted with needless suffering, with
stupid, ugly acts.

There were only twenty cattle to be unloaded on this day, but it took
two hours to transfer them to the lighter, and at the end of that time
the tide had fallen so that they must wait for another six or eight
hours, in the broiling sun, until the water was high enough for the
lighter to approach the landing stage, where another block and pulley
was rigged. Which meant that later in the day--possibly in the hottest
part--Mercier would be obliged to come down again to oversee the work,
and to see that it was finished. For the cattle must be ashore by
evening--meat was needed for the settlement, and some must be killed
for food that night. Mercier was thoroughly disgusted with his work,
with his whole wasted life. Ah, it was a dog's life! Yet how eagerly
he had tried to obtain this post--how eagerly he had begged for the
chance, pleaded for it, besought the few influential people he knew to
obtain it for him.

On the way back to his bungalow, he passed along the palm grown road,
on each side of which were the red and white bungalows, residences of
the dozen officials of the island. They were screened by hedges of
high growing bushes, bearing brilliant, exotic flowers which gave out
a heavy, sweet perfume, and the perfume hung in clouds, invisible yet
tangible, pervading the soft, warm air. How he had dreamed of such
perfumes--long ago. Yet how sickening in reality. And how dull they
were, the interiors of these sheltered bungalows, how dull and stupid
the monotonous life that went on inside them--dejected, weary, useless
little rounds of household activity, that went along langu