"'Books!' I repeated, surprised; 'what kind of books?' I had an idea he could take no interest in anything save grammars and dictionaries. Somehow, in spite of all his acquirements, one didn't associate that transitory creature with books at all. 'Eh?' he said, harshly, 'I don't understand. You understand, I wish for books.' 'Yes, what sort?' I asked again. 'It doesn't matter,' he muttered, calmly, taking the finished article from the lathe and putting it beside the screws, 'all books are the same. It doesn't matter at all. You have books, eh?' I said I had one or two, but I needed them. As a matter of fact, I had only brought one or two engineering works with me and a funny old leather-bound Norie's Navigation of my father's. My mother didn't know whether I'd need it or not. I didn't. I had plenty to do without going into navigation. It was a queer old thing, though, designed for men of the old school who came aft from the forecastle and had to learn the three Rs. 'You need them, eh? Ah, well, that is all right. I read many books, yes. Plenty English books.' I saw light all at once. 'How much for these?' I asked Mister George. He turned to look at the gauges of the freezing plant and then glanced back at me over his shoulder. 'I care nothing for money,' he said. 'It is the root of evil. But books! Knowledge is power, yes.'
"It was confusing. Here was another victim of words, words he didn't even clearly understand. He lived apparently in a copy-book world, full of shining maxims and idiotic generalities. For an instant I had a queer feeling of talking to one of those automatons one sees on the stage--figures with gramaphones in their interiors, and who utter strange, disconcerting sounds.
"'I will give you a book,' I said at last, taking up the things, 'and many thanks for these. They said we couldn't get them made here, but you see they were wrong.'
"He didn't understand a word of this explanation, I believe. He smiled, moved his fez round and round his head as if on a socket, and remarked, 'Yes, you all right now, eh?'
"'Yes,' I said, patiently, 'but if you want a book on navigation, mathematics and so on, I can let you have it.'
"He nodded, but I don't think he followed me. So I took my screws and washer, and telling him I would return, hurried back to the ship. You know, I felt triumphant. I had scored, not only over my shipmates, but over him, over Africa, over the whole of the universe that wasn't Me, myself. I had taken a step forward. It is curious how difficult it is to describe the simplest evolutions of the soul. But I was no longer oppressed by Mister George and his languages. I had accomplished something far beyond the most abstruse philologies--I had got what I wanted.