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78 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1887
"'My name is Attwater,' continued the stranger. 'You, I presume, are the captain?'
...
Twenty-nine,' said Attwater. 'Twenty-nine deaths and thirty-one cases, out of thirty-three souls upon the island.—That's a strange way to calculate, Mr Hay, is it not? Souls! I never say it but it startles me.'
...
'There can be no reason why I should affect the least degree of secrecy about my island,' returned Attwater...
'What brought you here to the South Seas?' he asked presently.
'Many things,' said Attwater. 'Youth, curiosity, romance, the love of the sea, and (it will surprise you to hear) an interest in missions.
...But religion is a savage thing, like the universe it illuminates; savage, cold, and bare, but infinitely strong.' "
Then came over Davis, from deep down in the roots of his being, or at least from far back among his memories of childhood and innocence, a wave of superstition. This run of ill luck was something beyond natural; the chances of the game were in themselves more various; it seemed as if the devil must serve the pieces. The devil? He heard again the clear note of Attwater's bell ringing abroad into the night, and dying away. How if God...?The ending is a surprise which I do not wish to divulge.
In all this there was no thought of Robert Herrick. He has complied with the ebb-tide in man's affairs, and the tide had carried him away; he heard already the roaring of the maelstrom that must hurry him under. And in his bedevilled and dishonoured soul there was no thought of self.The Ebb-Tide, written with his stepson Lloyd Osbourne and published in 1894, was Robert Louis Stevenson's last completed novel. By this time, he had settled in Samoa, and although he still wrote Scottish subjects (such as Catriona and the unfinished Weir of Hermiston), he surroundings stimulated him to write a number of tales that reflected his new environment in the South Pacific; this is one of them.

"No, but I want to know," said Huish. "It's within the sp'ere of practical politics for you and me, my boy; we may both be bowled over, one up, t'other down, within the next ten minutes. It would be rather a lark, now, if you only skipped across, came up smilin' t'other side, and a hangel met you with a B. and S. under his wing. 'Ullo, you'd s'y; I tyke this kind."Not the man's most incomprehensible utterance by any means; I quote it also because he is talking about death and the world to come. All three men, in one way or another, are occupied with the thought of how their ruined lives might end. When Davis wrangles a commission to sail to Australia, captaining a schooner, the Farfallone, whose officers have all died of smallpox, the three seize upon it as a way of escaping Tahiti, fully intending to steal it and its contents. But this also begins to feel like the voyage of the soul into the unknown.
