night, as I sat on my verandah, lighting a pipe and contemplating the face of the full moon—sometimes, Henley, it hangs so close to this mountaintop, it is like having a silver pocket watch dangling in front of my eyes—I saw a flicker of light emerging from the jungle and making straight for the house. For a moment, I thought it might finally be one of the aitus—evil spirits—that the natives believe haunt the tangled slopes of Mount Vaea, but then it resolved itself into the burning
