Meanwhile the skipper had turned her round and was making headway against the waves, but still her bow would not lift, and the captain wept still more. His womanish behaviour disgusted me. At last a quiet passenger, an experienced sailor, gave some advice, which the skipper followed, and which helped matters a little, so that he regained his self-control to the extent of calling a general council; he announced that he dared not continue the voyage, and asked our consent to return to Noumea. We all agreed, and about midnight we approached the reef. Now there are lights in the passage, but they are so poor as to be invisible until the traveller is already in the passage, so that they are of little use. We were trying to find the entrance, when the experienced seaman I mentioned before, who was keeping a look out, called out that we were close to the breakers and surrounded by the reef. The only thing we could do was to turn seaward again and beat about till daylight. After some hours the wind fell and the worst was over; still, the night was unpleasant enough, and frequent squalls kept us awake. We were all glad when the day broke and we were able to enter the passage. We landed at Noumea in the finest of weather, and our unexpected return created quite a sensation. We passengers convinced ourselves that the cargo was considerably reduced before starting out again the next day. This time we arrived safely at Port Vila, where the British and French native police forces came aboard, bound for Santo, to quell a disturbance at Hog Harbour; and so the hapless boat was overloaded again, this time with passengers. Next day we arrived at Epi, and I landed at Ringdove Bay. The station of the Messrs. F. and H. is one of the oldest in the islands. Besides running a plantation, they trade with the natives, and their small cutters go to all the neighbouring islands for coprah and other produce. There is always plenty of life and movement at the station, as there are usually a few of the vessels lying at anchor, and natives coming in from all sides in their whale-boats to buy or sell something. From Malekula one can often see them tacking about all day, or, if there is a calm, drifting slowly along, as they are too lazy to row. When they have found the passage through the reef, they pull down the sails with much noise and laughter, and come to anchor; then the whole crowd wades through the surf to the shore, with the loads of coprah, and waits patiently for business to begin. On these stations, where almost everyone is squeezed into decent European clothes, it is a charming sight to see the naked bodies of the genuine savages, all the more so as only young and able-bodied men take part in these cruises, under the leadership of one older and more experienced companion. Their beauty is doubly striking beside the poor station hands, wrapped in filthy calico.