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 likethree 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 doeshappen 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," was my answer--"all the world, all the sea, and all the islands that are in the sea.""I will go with you," he said simply."My wife is dead."I never had a brother; but from what I have seen of other men's brothers, I doubt if any man ever had a brother that was to him what Otoo was to me.He was brother and father and mother as well.And this I know: I lived a straighter and better man because of Otoo.I cared little for other men, but I had to live straight in Otoo's eyes.Because of him I dared not tarnish myself.He made me his ideal, compounding me, I fear, chiefly out of his own love and worship and there were times when I stood close to the steep pitch of hell, and would have taken the plunge had not the thought of Otoo restrained me.His pride in me entered into me, until it became one of the major rules in my personal code to do nothing that would diminish that pride of his.
Naturally, I did not learn right away what his feelings were toward me.He never criticized, never censured; and slowly the exalted place I held in his eyes dawned upon me, and slowly I grew to comprehend the hurt I could inflict upon him by being anything less than my best.
