two o’clock
At early dawn a legion of little Japanese workmen invade us , bringing their dinners in baskets and gourds like the workingmen in our arsenals , but with a poor , shabby appearance , and a ferreting , hurried manner which reminds one of rats . Silently they slip under the keel , at the bottom of the hold , in all the holes , sawing , nailing , repairing . The heat is intense in this spot , overshadowed by the rocks and tangled masses of foliage . At two o'clock , in the broad sunlight , we have a new and far prettier invasion : that of the beetles and butterflies . There are butterflies as wonderful as those on the fans . Some , all black , giddily dash up against us , so light and airy that they seem merely a pair of quivering wings fastened together without any body . Yves , astonished , gazes at them , saying , in his boyish manner : `` Oh , I saw such a big one just now , such a big one , it quite frightened me ; I thought it was a bat attacking me . ''