[Note: this transcription was produced by an automatic OCR engine]

72 WITH NATIVES IN THE WESTERN PACIFIC

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 dis-
appearing 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 dis-
satisfied. 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