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rushed together and collapsed upon one another； or fell apart like a
thousand waterfalls all at once。 It was no ocean any man had ever dreamed
of； that hurricane center。 It was confusion thrice confounded。 It was
anarchy。 It was a hell pit of sea water gone mad。
The Petite Jeanne？ I don't know。 The heathen told me afterwards that
he did not know。 She was literally torn apart； ripped wide open； beaten
into a pulp； smashed into kindling wood； annihilated。 When I came to I
was in the water； swimming automatically； though I was about two…thirds
drowned。 How I got there I had no recollection。 I remembered seeing the
Petite Jeanne fly to pieces at what must have been the instant that my own
consciousness was buffeted out of me。 But there I was； with nothing to do
but make the best of it； and in that best there was little promise。 The wind
was blowing again； the sea was much smaller and more regular； and I
knew that I had passed through the center。 Fortunately； there were no
sharks about。 The hurricane had dissipated the ravenous horde that had
surrounded the death ship and fed off the dead。
It was about midday when the Petite Jeanne went to pieces； and it must
have been two hours afterwards when I picked up with one of her hatch
covers。 Thick rain was driving at the time； and it was the merest chance
that flung me and the hatch cover together。 A short length of line was
trailing from the rope handle； and I knew that I was good for a day； at least；
if the sharks did not return。 Three hours later； possibly a little longer；
sticking close to the cover； and with closed eyes； concentrating my whole
soul upon the task of breathing in enough air to keep me going and at the
same time of avoiding breathing in enough water to drown me； it seemed
to me that I heard voices。 The rain had ceased； and wind and sea were
easing marvelously。 Not twenty feet away from me； on another hatch
cover were Captain Oudouse and the heathen。 They were fighting over the
possession of the coverat least； the Frenchman was。 〃Paien noir！〃 I heard
him scream； and at the same time I saw him kick the kanaka。
Now； Captain Oudouse had lost all his clothes； except his shoes； and
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they were heavy brogans。 It was a cruel blow； for it caught the heathen on
the mouth and the point of the chin； half stunning him。 I looked for him to
retaliate； but he contented himself with swimming about forlornly a safe
ten feet away。 Whenever a fling of the sea threw him closer； the
Frenchman； hanging on with his hands； kicked out at him with both feet。
Also； at the moment of delivering each kick； he called the kanaka a black
heathen。
〃For two centimes I'd come over there and drown you； you white
beast！〃 I yelled。
The only reason I did not go was that I felt too tired。 The very thought
of the effort to swim over was nauseating。 So I called to the kanaka to
come to me； and proceeded to share the hatch cover with him。 Otoo； he
told me his name was （pronounced o…to…o ）； also； he told me that he was a
native of Bora Bora； the most westerly of the Society Group。 As I learned
afterward； he had got the hatch cover first； and； after some time；
encountering Captain Oudouse； had offered to share it with him； and had
been kicked off for his pains。
And that was how Otoo and I first came together。 He was no fighter。
He was all sweetness and gentleness； a love creature； though he stood
nearly six feet tall and was muscled like a gladiator。 He was no fighter； but
he was also no coward。 He had the heart of a lion； and in the years that
followed I have seen him run risks that I would never dream of taking。
What I mean is that while he was no fighter； and while he always avoided
precipitating a row； he never ran away from trouble when it started。 And it
was 〃Ware shoal！〃 when once Otoo went into action。 I shall never forget
what he did to Bill King。 It occurred in German Samoa。 Bill King was
hailed the champion heavyweight of the American Navy。 He was a big
brute of a man； a veritable gorilla； one of those hard…hitting； rough…
housing chaps； and clever with his fists as well。 He picked the quarrel； and
he kicked Otoo twice and struck him once before Otoo felt it to be
necessary to fight。 I don't think it lasted four minutes； at the end of which
time Bill King was the unhappy possessor of four broken ribs； a broken
forearm； and a dislocated shoulder blade。 Otoo knew nothing of scientific
boxing。 He was merely a manhandler； and Bill King was something like
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three months in recovering from the bit of manhandling he received that
afternoon on Apia beach。
But I am running ahead of my yarn。 We shared the hatch cover
between us。 We took turn and turn about； one lying flat on the cover and
resting； while the other； submerged to the neck； merely held on with his
hands。 For two days and nights； spell and spell； on the cover and in the
water； we drifted over the ocean。 Towards the last I was delirious most
of the time； and there were times； too； when I heard Otoo babbling and
raving in his native tongue。 Our continuous immersion prevented us from
dying of thirst； though the sea water and the sunshine gave us the prettiest
imaginable combination of salt pickle and sunburn。
In the end； Otoo saved my life； for I came to lying on the beach twenty
feet from the water； sheltered from the sun by a couple of cocoanut leaves。
No one but Otoo could have dragged me there and stuck up the leaves for
shade。 He was lying beside me。 I went off again； and the next time I came
round； it was cool and starry night； and Otoo was pressing a drinking
cocoanut to my lips。
We were the sole survivors of the Petite Jeanne。 Captain Oudouse must
have succumbed to exhaustion； for several days later his hatch cover
drifted ashore without him。 Otoo and I lived with the natives of the atoll
for a week； when we were rescued by the French cruiser and taken to
Tahiti。 In the meantime； however； we had performed the ceremony of
exchanging names。 In the South Seas such a ceremony binds two men
closer together than blood brothership。 The initiative had been mine； and
Otoo was rapturously delighted when I suggested it。
〃It is well；〃 he said； in Tahitian。 〃For we have been mates together for
two days on the lips of Death。〃
〃But death stuttered；〃 I smiled。
〃It was a brave deed you did； master；〃 he replied； 〃and Death was not
vile enough to speak。〃
〃Why do you 'master' me？〃 I demanded； with a show of hurt feelings。
〃We have exchanged names。 To you I am Otoo。 To me you are Charley。
And between you and me； forever and forever； you shall be Charley； and I
shall be Otoo。 It is the way of the custom。 And when we die； if it does
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happen that we live again somewhere beyond the stars and the sky； still
shall you be Charley to me； and I Otoo to you。〃
〃Yes； master；〃 he answered； his eyes luminous and soft with joy。
〃There you go！〃 I cried indignantly。
〃What does it matter what my lips utter？〃 he argued。 〃They are only
my lips。 But I shall think Otoo always。 Whenever I think of myself； I shall
think of you。 Whenever men call me by name； I shall think of you。 And
beyond the sky and beyond the stars； always and forever； you shall be
Otoo to me。 Is it well； master？〃
I hid my smile； and answered that it was well。
We parted at Papeete。 I remained ashore to recuperate； and he went on
in a cutter to his own island； Bora Bora。 Six weeks later he was back。 I
was surprised； for he had told me of his wife； and said that he was
returning to her； and would give over sailing on far voyages。
〃Where do you go； master？〃 he asked； after our first greetings。
I shrugged my shoulders。 It was a hard question。
〃All the world；〃 wa