d myself to the prospect of leaving
the vessel in debt, whenever that desirable event might happen. Since,
therefore, I had never made it a practice to repine at the inevitable,
and make myself unhappy by the contemplation of misfortunes I was
powerless to prevent, I tried to interest myself as far as was possible
in gathering information, although at that time I had no idea, beyond a
general thirst for knowledge, that what I was now learning would ever
be of any service to me. Yet I had been dull indeed not to have seen how
unique were the opportunities I was now enjoying for observation of some
of the least known and understood aspects of the ocean world and its
wonderful inhabitants, to say nothing of visits to places unvisited,
except by such free lances as we were, and about which so little is
really known.

The weather of the Mozambique Channel was fairly good, although subject
to electric storms of the most terrible aspect, but perfectly harmless.
On the second evening after rounding Cape St. Mary, we were proceeding,
as usual, under very scanty sail, rather enjoying the mild, balmy
air, scent-laden, from Madagascar. The moon was shining in tropical
splendour, paling the lustre of the attendant stars, and making the
glorious Milky Way but a faint shadow of its usual resplendent road.
Gradually from the westward there arose a murky mass of cloud, fringed
at its upper edges with curious tinted tufts of violet, orange, and
crimson. These colours were not brilliant, but plainly visible against
the deep blue sky. Slowly and solemnly the intruding gloom overspread
the sweet splendour of the shining sky, creeping like a death-shadow
over a dear face, and making the most talkative feel strangely quiet and
ill at ease. As the pall of thick darkness blotted out the cool light,
it seemed to descend until at last we were completely over-canopied by
a dome of velvety black, seemingly low enough to touch the mast-heads.
A belated sea-bird's shrill scream but emphasized the deep silence
which lent itself befittingly to the solemnity of nature. Presently thin
suggestions of light, variously tinted, began to thread the inky
mass. These grew brighter and more vivid, until at last, in fantastic
contortions, they appeared to rend the swart concave asunder, revealing
through the jagged clefts a lurid waste of the most intensely glowing
fire. The coming and going of these amazing brightnesses, combined with
the Egyptian dark between,