Perhaps it was better that He should take my loved ones from me than that they should be dragged through the terrible years that followed.
But for a long time I utterly refused to believe that my darlings were lost--they were truly as sisters to me; and Yamba and I and the natives dived for them time after time, searching the sea in every direction.

But at length, seeing that I was exhausted, Yamba forcibly detained me, and told me that I myself would inevitably drown if I went into the water again.

The wound in my thigh (I am uncertain to this day whether it was the result of the gun-shot or mere collision with the rough gunwale of the canoe) was bleeding freely; and as it was also pointed out to me that there was a very strong and swift current at this spot, I allowed myself to be taken away without any further opposition.
I simply _could_ not realise my bereavement.

It seemed too terrible and stunning to think, that when God had provided me with these two charming companions, who were all in all to me every moment of my existence, as a consolation for the horrors I had gone through--it seemed impossible, I say, that they should be snatched from me just at the very moment when salvation seemed within our reach.

Every detail of the incident passed before my mental vision, but I could not grasp it--I could not seem to think it real.