1 I forgot the heartache which makes up the rest of the price.
2 And he was devoted to his books, which were in apple-pie order.
3 He resembled a pilot, which to a seaman is trustworthiness personified.
4 Then he asked me to his room, which was in the main building of the station.
5 He has to live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is also detestable.
6 I have a little theory which you Messieurs who go out there must help me to prove.
7 The yarns of seamen have a direct simplicity, the whole meaning of which lies within the shell of a cracked nut.
8 I could see he was disturbed and considerably puzzled, which made me feel more hopeful than I had been for days.
9 I avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope, the purpose of which I found it impossible to divine.
10 He ought to have been clapping his hands and stamping his feet on the bank, instead of which he was hard at work, a thrall to strange witchcraft, full of improving knowledge.
11 When annoyed at meal-times by the constant quarrels of the white men about precedence, he ordered an immense round table to be made, for which a special house had to be built.
12 And, after all, they did not eat each other before my face: they had brought along a provision of hippo-meat which went rotten, and made the mystery of the wilderness stink in my nostrils.
13 So, one evening, I made a speech in English with gestures, not one of which was lost to the sixty pairs of eyes before me, and the next morning I started the hammock off in front all right.
14 The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much.
15 Can't say I saw any road or any upkeep, unless the body of a middle-aged negro, with a bullet-hole in the forehead, upon which I absolutely stumbled three miles farther on, may be considered as a permanent improvement.
16 The black bones reclined at full length with one shoulder against the tree, and slowly the eyelids rose and the sunken eyes looked up at me, enormous and vacant, a kind of blind, white flicker in the depths of the orbs, which died out slowly.
17 In the immutability of their surroundings the foreign shores, the foreign faces, the changing immensity of life, glide past, veiled not by a sense of mystery but by a slightly disdainful ignorance; for there is nothing mysterious to a seaman unless it be the sea itself, which is the mistress of his existence and as inscrutable as Destiny.
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