the infinite deeps of heaven; and the ship floats as
though she lay over a bottomless pool of waters.
Millions of fire-flies flash in the trees, lighting up their
dark forms against the darker sky.
And here there is room for nothing else but the
ship. All other craft lie for safety at the creek’s mouth
till she has passed, and we suddenly come upon them
all, drawn up under the banks of Myaungmya, where
the homing steamer is also waiting, monstrous and flame-
clad, her funnel amongst the palms, for right of way.
At Myaungmya there is now a large population.
Boats, carved and gilded and lofty of stern, rise up like
shadows along the banks ; open-air plays are in full
progress ashore; raftsmen lie on the water, and at one
point where there is a narrow passage, a protruding raft
is rent asunder, as the iron prow of our starboard flat
crashes through. We are moving slowly and carefully,
but with the momentum of a thousand tons and more.
The searchlight flames on the banks, making vivid the
swaying palms, the crowded alleys, and the wharves,
where Chinamen wait beside the black Coringhi, and
Sikhs in khaki stand for order. As the steamer runs
out her gangways, the crowd surges on board, and
coolies, chanting a wild refrain, roll the cargo down the
pontoon to the flats. The homing ship, with a clear
passage before her, passes swiftly away into the dark
world of the forest, and in half an hour we too leave all
animated spectacles behind us, and plunge into the
silent creeks.