“H’m!” he said, regarding the wreckage with a calmer visage. “Of course. However, it would only be robbing the hangman of his dues. To preach a fine sermon every Sunday so that he would lose neither the art nor the impulse; and this child, in secret rebellion, taking it down in long hand during odd hours in the week! Preaching grandiloquently before a few score natives who understood little beyond the gestures, for the single purpose of warding off disintegration! It reminded the doctor of a stubborn retreat; from barricade to barricade, grimly fighting to keep the enemy at bay, that insidious enemy of the white man in the South Seas—inertia. For so far she had kept it uncashed. " Upon which, he plunged his oars deeply into the stream, and the bark shot from the strand. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry.
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