Charles Warren Stoddard,
Summer Cruising in the South Seas
“ They scarcely knew the thin, drawn face, with the slender, wiry fingers locked over it, but they recognized the death-stroke with prophetic instinct, and, crouching at the foot of the bed, rocked their dusky bodies to and fro, to and fro, wailing the death-wail for Zebra.Then I longed for wings to fly away with my savage brood,—away, over seas and mountains, till the palms waved again their phantom crests in the mellow star-light, and the sea moaned upon the reef, and the rivulet leaped from crag to crag through silence and shadow: where death seemed but a grateful sleep ”
