42 JOURNEY WITHOUT MAPS

plains, "when compelled to condense into words may
precipitate some curt maxim or over-simple theory as
a sort of war-cry; but its puerile language does it in-
justice, because it broods at a much deeper level than
language or even thought. It is a mass of dumb in-
stincts and allegiances, the love of a certain quality of
life", and in a finely chosen if romantic metaphor, he
describes how "it fights under its trivial fluttering
opinions like a smoking battleship under its flags and
signals". So to be fair to these men one must recog-
nise a certain fidelity, a kind of patriotism in the dust
and anglicanism and the closing hours; this is their
"corner of a foreign field", just as much as the flowers
and cafes and the neat tarts of Dakar are the French-
men's corner. If you are English, they would argue,
you will feel at home here: if you don't like it you
are not English. If one must condemn, one should
condemn not the outposts but the headquarters of
Empire, the country which has given them only this :
a feeling for respectability and a sense of fairness
withering in the heat

No Screws Unturned

When I came on shore I was met by an elderly
Kru carrying an umbrella. He said reproachfully,
*Tve been waiting for some hours." He held a cable
in his hand from London; it asked him to get in
touch with Greene, who was leaving for the Republic.
"My name," the Kru said, "is Mr. D.". He knew
t&e Republic well, he could be of use.

An even more august authority was giving me un-
help. Before I left the boat I had been