I wondered whether this complaisant planet would raise the waters for us to-morrow and float the Nautilus. Towards midnight, seeing that all was quiet around us, I retired and slept quietly. The night passed without incident. The Papuans were afraid, no doubt, even at the view of the monster stranded in their bay, for the panels had been left open, and access to the Nautilus was easy.
At six o’clock the next morning I ascended to the platform. The morning mists were rising. The island, its shores and mountains, would soon be distinctly visible.
The natives were still there, and in greater numbers than before—five or six hundred, perhaps. Some of them advanced over the coral reefs—the tide being out —to within two cables’ length of the Nautilus. I could distinguish them plainly. They were of the true Papuan type—tall, athletic men, high foreheads, large noses, not flattened, and white teeth. Their long hair, tinted red, fell over their shoulders, and their skin was as black and glossy as that of the Nubian. The lobes of their ears, cut and distended, were hung with bone ornaments. The men were naked, as a rule. Amongst them there were a few women, clothed from waist to knee in a regular crinoline of grassy texture, sustained by a girdle of bark. Some of the chiefs had ornamented their necks with a painted crescent, and with rows of red and white beads. They were nearly all armed with bows and arrows and shields, while over the shoulder they wore a kind of net, in which they carried the round stones which they sling with much accuracy of aim.
One of the chiefs approached the Nautilus pretty
