He was twenty-five feet in length, and had a dorsal fin
that stood up like the sail of a small boat. But even these
dimensions cannot convey the feeling of alarm his presence
gave me. His next leap brought him within forty feet of
us. I recalled a score of accidents I had seen, read, and
heard of; fishermen stabbed, boats rent, steel-clad ships 5
pierced through and through.
Red Chicken held the torch to observe him better, and
shouted: "Apau! Look out! Paddle fast away!"
I needed no urging. I dug into the glowing water
madly, and the sound of my paddle on the side of the canoe 10
might have been heard half a mile away. It served no
purpose. Suddenly half a dozen of the swordfish began
jumping about us, as if stirred to anger by our torch. I
called to Red Chicken to extinguish it.
He had seized it to obey when I heard a splash and the 15
canoe received a terrific shock. A tremendous bulk fell
upon it. With a sudden swing I was hurled into the air
and fell twenty feet away. In the water I heard a swish,
and glimpsed the giant espadon as he leaped again.
I was unhurt, but feared for Red Chicken. He had 20
cried out as the canoe went under, but I found him by the
outrigger, trying to right the craft. Together we succeeded,
and when I had ousted some of the water, Red Chicken
crawled in.
"Papaoufaa! I am wounded slightly," he said, as I 25
assisted him. "The Spear of the Sea has thrust me
through."
The torch was lost, but I felt a big hole in the calf of his
right leg. Blood was pouring from the wound. I made a
tourniquet of a strip of my pareu and, with a small harpoon, 30
twisted it until the flow of blood was stopped. Then,
guided by him, I paddled as fast as I could to the beach,
on which there was little trouble in landing as the bay was
smooth.
Red Chicken did not utter a complaint from the moment
of his first outcry, and when I roused others and he was
carried to his house, he took the pipe handed him and 5
smoked quietly.
"The Aavehie was against him," said an old man.
Aavehie is the god of fishermen, who was always propitiated
by intending anglers in the polytheistic days and who still
has power. 10
There was no white doctor on the island, nor had there
been one for many years. There was nothing to do but
call the tatihi, or native doctor, an aged and shriveled
man whose whole body was an intricate pattern of tattooing
and wrinkles. He came at once, and with his clawlike 15
hands cleverly drew together the edges of Red Chicken's
wound and gummed them in place with the juice of the ape,
a bulbous plant like the edible taro. Red Chicken must
have suffered keenly, for the ape juice is exceedingly caustic,
but he made no protest, continuing to puff the pipe. Over20
the wound the tatihi applied a leaf, and bound the whole
very carefully with a bandage of tapa cloth, folded in surgical
fashion.