Two Years with the Natives in the Western PacificSpeiser, Felix
History
Two Years with the Natives in the Western Pacific
Speiser, Felix
Ethnology -- Vanuatu; Vanuatu -- Description and travel
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 a 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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account