"It is peaceful, Monsieur," said the tall Frenchman. "It is difficult to believe there is so much unrest in the world when one sits here at eventide." I look round. Two natives are wading through the shallow water towards our island, and as they come they stop occasionally to throw the circular nets they carry. They are making a good haul. Syyed is talking to the Chinamen, a hundred yards away; my servant and orderly are erecting my camp bed. A few fishermen are kneeling round camp fires cooking their evening meal. I can see all over the tiny island. Along the coast a red light, and then a white, becomes visible as the darkness closes quickly round us. That is Jibouti. Perhaps there is a liner lying in the harbour, homeward bound, full of passengers going to Europe. There will be ladies and little children, and now it is nearly dinner-time. How far away and unreal it all seems. There is scarcely a sound. My companion is very silent. I am aroused from my reverie by the splash, splash, splosh, splosh in the water of small fish trying to escape from some monster who seeks his evening meal. "You have not answered my question, Monsieur," says the tall Frenchman. "It is peaceful here?" "Pardon," I reply, "I did not realise it was a question, but even here there is war." "How? Where?" "In the waters!" "True, and never ending war!" "Were you fighting in France, Monsieur?" "Yes!" "Well, doubtless you find it peaceful here." Again a very long silence, then, "Monsieur, my companion has just returned from Jibouti. Have you heard any news?" "No! my European news is seventeen days old. What is it?" Later I sit down to dinner, and, as I must be up betimes, I call the Chinamen to ask some questions concerning their work. "You are collecting bêche-de-mer and shark fins?" "We were, but our master has gone to China, and there are only two of us left; until he returns we have ceased work." "So I cannot see you at work in the morning." "No! we are not working now." I am bitterly disappointed as I have come purposely to see them catching and preparing the bêche-de-mer for market, but I turn in determined to find out all I possibly can, under the circumstances, on the morrow. Next morning I woke up to find Syyed and an Arab standing near my bed with lines out. With prawns for bait they were having splendid sport. The waters were swarming with fish. Dressing hurriedly I saw the first of the Frenchman's boats coming in with a load of fish, and I ran along to meet it. Over seventy sharks was the haul, but the biggest one was not more than three feet long. There were very few other fish, and they were mostly gurram. There was some talk between my men and the fishermen. "This," said the water police sergeant, picking up a shark eighteen inches long, "is a Sheiba (old man), he will not grow another inch!" "Certainly not, he is dead," I remark. "I mean he is full grown," replied the sergeant. The fishermen said that was a fact.