All the evening they rowed steadily, and
as they still swept along night came down suddenly. They kept
close to the shore, where to their right arose great mountains
straight up from the water's edge. They were covered with forest,
and here and there in the blackness fires twinkled.
"Head-hunters!" said the helmsman, pointing toward them.
Away to the left stretched the Pacific Ocean, and above shone the
stars in the deep blue dome. It was a still, hot tropical night.
From the land came the heavy scent of flowers. The only sound
that broke the stillness was the regular thud, thud of the oars
or the cry of some wild animal floating out from the jungle. As
they passed on through the warm darkness, the sea took on that
wonderful fiery glow that so often burns on the oceans of the
tropics. Every wave became a blaze of phosphorescence. Every
ripple from the oars ran away in many-colored flames--red, green,
blue, and orange. Kai Bok-su, sitting amazed at the glory to
which the Pe-po-hoan boatmen had become accustomed, was silent
with awe. He had seen the phosphorescent lights often before, but
never anything like this.
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