He was disappointed with himself.

He seemed to be surrendering to a wild creature the unstained purity of his life, of his race, of his civilization.

He had a notion of being lost amongst shapeless things that were dangerous and ghastly.

He struggled with the sense of certain defeat--lost his footing--fell back into the darkness.

With a faint cry and an upward throw of his arms he gave up as a tired swimmer gives up: because the swamped craft is gone from under his feet; because the night is dark and the shore is far--because death is better than strife..