I abandoned the canoe and started to swim toward theschooner， expecting to be picked up by the boat beforeI got there. One of the niggers elected to come with me，and we swam along silently， side by side， now and againputting our faces into the water and peering about forsharks. The screams of the man who stayed by the canoeinformed us that he was taken. I was peering into thewater when I saw a big shark pass directly beneath me.
He was fully sixteen feet in length. I saw the whole thing.
He got the woolly-head by the middle， and away he went，the poor devil， head， shoulders， and arms out of the waterall the time， screeching in a heart-rending way. He wascarried along in this fashion for several hundred feet， whenhe was dragged beneath the surface.
I swam doggedly on， hoping that that was the lastunattached shark. But there was another. Whether it wasone that had attacked the natives earlier， or whether it wasone that had made a good meal elsewhere， I do not know.
At any rate， he was not in such haste as the others. I couldnot swim so rapidly now， for a large part of my effort wasdevoted to keeping track of him. I was watching him whenhe made his first attack. By good luck I got both handson his nose， and， though his momentum nearly shovedme under， I managed to keep him off. He veered clear，and began circling about again. A second time I escapedhim by the same manoeuvre. The third rush was a miss onboth sides. He sheered at the moment my hands shouldhave landed on his nose， but his sandpaper hide （I had ona sleeveless undershirt） scraped the skin off one arm fromelbow to shoulder.
By this time I was played out， and gave up hope. Theschooner was still two hundred feet away. My face was inthe water， and I was watching him manoeuvre for anotherattempt， when I saw a brown body pass between us. It wasOtoo.
“Swim for the schooner， master！” he said. And he spokegayly， as though the affair was a mere lark. “I know sharks.
The shark is my brother.”
I obeyed， swimming slowly on， while Otoo swam aboutme， keeping always between me and the shark， foiling hisrushes and encouraging me.
“The davit tackle carried away， and they are rigging thefalls，” he explained， a minute or so later， and then wentunder to head off another attack.
By the time the schooner was thirty feet away I wasabout done for. I could scarcely move. They were heavinglines at us from on board， but they continually fell short.
The shark， finding that it was receiving no hurt， hadbecome bolder. Several times it nearly got me， but eachtime Otoo was there just the moment before it was toolate. Of course， Otoo could have saved himself any time.
But he stuck by me.
“Good-by， Charley！ I’m finished！” I just managed togasp.
I knew that the end had come， and that the nextmoment I should throw up my hands and go down.
But Otoo laughed in my face， saying：
“I will show you a new trick. I will make that shark feelsick！”
He dropped in behind me， where the shark was preparingto come at me.
“A little more to the left！” he next called out. “There is aline there on the water. To the left， master—to the left！”
I changed my course and struck out blindly. I was bythat time barely conscious. As my hand closed on theline I heard an exclamation from on board. I turned andlooked. There was no sign of Otoo. The next instanthe broke surface. Both hands were off at the wrist， thestumps spouting blood.
“Otoo！” he called softly. And I could see in his gaze thelove that thrilled in his voice.
Then， and then only， at the very last of all our years， hecalled me by that name.
“Good-by， Otoo！” he called.
Then he was dragged under， and I was hauled aboard，where I fainted in the captain’s arms.
And so passed Otoo， who saved me and made me aman， and who saved me in the end. We met in the mawof a hurricane， and parted in the maw of a shark， withseventeen intervening years of comradeship， the like ofwhich I dare to assert has never befallen two men， theone brown and the other white. If Jehovah be from Hishigh place watching every sparrow fall， not least in Hiskingdom shall be Otoo， the one heathen of Bora Bora.
