Do what he would to regain his courage, it seemed that he had no longer an object in life, and that the future was a blank wall to him for ever and ever.
Beside him on the bridge of the Falémé was seated the gigantic Nyaor-fall, the black spahi, to whom, as his most faithful friend, Jean had confided his troubles.
Nyaor did not attempt to understand these sentiments—Nyaor, whom no one had ever loved, whose thatched roof harboured three purchased wives, whom he intended to sell as soon as they ceased to please him.
Nevertheless he realised that his friend Jean was unhappy. He smiled at him kindly, and to distract him told him negro stories irresistibly soporific.
XI
The flotilla sailed up the river with all possible speed, making fast at sunset and getting under way again at dawn.
At Richard-Toll, the first French outpost, more men, negresses, and material were taken on board.
At Dagana, a two days halt was made, and the Falémé received orders to continue her voyage alone as far as Podor, the last outpost before reaching Galam, where several companies of riflemen had already been concentrated.
XII
The Falémé continued on her way through the vast desert; she plunged swiftly into the interior, sailing up the yellow waters of the narrow river which separates Moorish Sahara from the great mysterious continent with its black population.