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The
ship
was
only
in
port
for
six
hours
,
and
in
the
evening
Captain
Nichols
watched
the
vanishing
smoke
from
her
funnels
as
she
ploughed
East
through
the
wintry
sea
.
I
have
narrated
all
this
as
best
I
could
,
because
I
like
the
contrast
of
these
episodes
with
the
life
that
I
had
seen
Strickland
live
in
Ashley
Gardens
when
he
was
occupied
with
stocks
and
shares
;
but
I
am
aware
that
Captain
Nichols
was
an
outrageous
liar
,
and
I
dare
say
there
is
not
a
word
of
truth
in
anything
he
told
me
.
I
should
not
be
surprised
to
learn
that
he
had
never
seen
Strickland
in
his
life
,
and
owed
his
knowledge
of
Marseilles
to
the
pages
of
a
magazine
.
It
is
here
that
I
purposed
to
end
my
book
.
My
first
idea
was
to
begin
it
with
the
account
of
Strickland
’
s
last
years
in
Tahiti
and
with
his
horrible
death
,
and
then
to
go
back
and
relate
what
I
knew
of
his
beginnings
.
This
I
meant
to
do
,
not
from
wilfulness
,
but
because
I
wished
to
leave
Strickland
setting
out
with
I
know
not
what
fancies
in
his
lonely
soul
for
the
unknown
islands
which
fired
his
imagination
.
I
liked
the
picture
of
him
starting
at
the
age
of
forty
-
seven
,
when
most
men
have
already
settled
comfortably
in
a
groove
,
for
a
new
world
.
I
saw
him
,
the
sea
gray
under
the
mistral
and
foam
-
flecked
,
watching
the
vanishing
coast
of
France
,
which
he
was
destined
never
to
see
again
;
and
I
thought
there
was
something
gallant
in
his
bearing
and
dauntless
in
his
soul
.
I
wished
so
to
end
on
a
note
of
hope
.
It
seemed
to
emphasise
the
unconquerable
spirit
of
man
.
But
I
could
not
manage
it
.
Somehow
I
could
not
get
into
my
story
,
and
after
trying
once
or
twice
I
had
to
give
it
up
;
I
started
from
the
beginning
in
the
usual
way
,
and
made
up
my
mind
I
could
only
tell
what
I
knew
of
Strickland
’
s
life
in
the
order
in
which
I
learnt
the
facts
.
Those
that
I
have
now
are
fragmentary
.
I
am
in
the
position
of
a
biologist
who
from
a
single
bone
must
reconstruct
not
only
the
appearance
of
an
extinct
animal
,
but
its
habits
.
Strickland
made
no
particular
impression
on
the
people
who
came
in
contact
with
him
in
Tahiti
.
To
them
he
was
no
more
than
a
beach
-
comber
in
constant
need
of
money
,
remarkable
only
for
the
peculiarity
that
he
painted
pictures
which
seemed
to
them
absurd
;
and
it
was
not
till
he
had
been
dead
for
some
years
and
agents
came
from
the
dealers
in
Paris
and
Berlin
to
look
for
any
pictures
which
might
still
remain
on
the
island
,
that
they
had
any
idea
that
among
them
had
dwelt
a
man
of
consequence
.
They
remembered
then
that
they
could
have
bought
for
a
song
canvases
which
now
were
worth
large
sums
,
and
they
could
not
forgive
themselves
for
the
opportunity
which
had
escaped
them
.
There
was
a
Jewish
trader
called
Cohen
,
who
had
come
by
one
of
Strickland
’
s
pictures
in
a
singular
way
.
He
was
a
little
old
Frenchman
,
with
soft
kind
eyes
and
a
pleasant
smile
,
half
trader
and
half
seaman
,
who
owned
a
cutter
in
which
he
wandered
boldly
among
the
Paumotus
and
the
Marquesas
,
taking
out
trade
goods
and
bringing
back
copra
,
shell
,
and
pearls
.
I
went
to
see
him
because
I
was
told
he
had
a
large
black
pearl
which
he
was
willing
to
sell
cheaply
,
and
when
I
discovered
that
it
was
beyond
my
means
I
began
to
talk
to
him
about
Strickland
.
He
had
known
him
well
.
"
You
see
,
I
was
interested
in
him
because
he
was
a
painter
,
"
he
told
me
.
"
We
don
’
t
get
many
painters
in
the
islands
,
and
I
was
sorry
for
him
because
he
was
such
a
bad
one
.
I
gave
him
his
first
job
.
I
had
a
plantation
on
the
peninsula
,
and
I
wanted
a
white
overseer
.
You
never
get
any
work
out
of
the
natives
unless
you
have
a
white
man
over
them
.
I
said
to
him
:
’
You
’
ll
have
plenty
of
time
for
painting
,
and
you
can
earn
a
bit
of
money
.
’
I
knew
he
was
starving
,
but
I
offered
him
good
wages
.
"
"
I
can
’
t
imagine
that
he
was
a
very
satisfactory
overseer
,
"
I
said
,
smiling
.
"
I
made
allowances
.
I
have
always
had
a
sympathy
for
artists
.
It
is
in
our
blood
,
you
know
.
But
he
only
remained
a
few
months
.
When
he
had
enough
money
to
buy
paints
and
canvases
he
left
me
.
The
place
had
got
hold
of
him
by
then
,
and
he
wanted
to
get
away
into
the
bush
.
But
I
continued
to
see
him
now
and
then
.
He
would
turn
up
in
Papeete
every
few
months
and
stay
a
little
while
;
he
’
d
get
money
out
of
someone
or
other
and
then
disappear
again
.
It
was
on
one
of
these
visits
that
he
came
to
me
and
asked
for
the
loan
of
two
hundred
francs
.
He
looked
as
if
he
hadn
’
t
had
a
meal
for
a
week
,
and
I
hadn
’
t
the
heart
to
refuse
him
.
Of
course
,
I
never
expected
to
see
my
money
again
.
Well
,
a
year
later
he
came
to
see
me
once
more
,
and
he
brought
a
picture
with
him
.
He
did
not
mention
the
money
he
owed
me
,
but
he
said
:
’
Here
is
a
picture
of
your
plantation
that
I
’
ve
painted
for
you
.
’
I
looked
at
it
.
I
did
not
know
what
to
say
,
but
of
course
I
thanked
him
,
and
when
he
had
gone
away
I
showed
it
to
my
wife
.
"
"
What
was
it
like
?
"
I
asked
.
