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 à 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 friends. I gave myself up wholly to this vague dreaming, call it home-sickness, or what you will, it enlivened the oppressive colourlessness of the days and the loneliness of the nights. As usual, a heavy shower came, luckily, perhaps, to interrupt all softer thoughts.