Atolls of the Sun

by Frederick O'Brien

Launch towing canoes to diving grounds in lagoon

Divers voyaging in Paumotu atolls

“Now the shark was angry and puzzled, and so rushed to the bottom again, but with the man on his back. The shark had not been able to enjoy the air at the top because he breathes water and not air. Huri-Huri closed his gill openings, and piloted him, and so he came up again and again descended. By pulling at the gills the shark’s head was brought up and he had to rise. All this time Huri-Huri was thinking hard about God and his own evil life. He knew that each second might be his last one in life, and he prayed. He thought of Iona who was saved out of the shark’s belly in the sea where Christ was born, and he asked Iona to aid him. And all the while he jerked at the gills, which are the shark’s lungs. He knew that the shark was dying all the time, but the question was how long could the shark himself hold out, and which would weaken first. Up and down they went for half an hour, the shark’s blood pouring out over Huri-Huri’s hands as he minute after minute tore at the gills. Now he could direct the shark any way, and often he guided him toward the beach of the lagoon. The shark would swim toward it but when he felt the shallow water would turn. But after many minutes the shark had to stay on top altogether, because he was too far gone to dive, and finally Huri-Huri steered him right upon the sand. Huri-Huri fell off the mao and crawled up further, out of reach of him.

“When the people on shore who had watched the strange fight between the mao and the man came to them both, the fish could barely move his tail, and Huri-Huri was like dead. Every bit of skin was rubbed off his chest, legs, and arms, and he was bleeding from dozens of places. The shark’s body is as rough as a file. When Huri-Huri opened his eyes on his mat in his house, and looked about and heard his wife speak to him, and heard his friends about say that he was the bravest and strongest Paumotuan who ever lived, he said: ‘My brothers, praise God! I called on Iona, and the prophet heard me, and taught me how to conquer the devil that would have killed me in my sin!’ They listened and were astonished. They thought the first thing Huri-Huri would say would be, ‘Give me a drink of rum!’ American, that man is seventy years old now, and for thirty years he has preached about God and sin. Iona was three days and nights in the shark’s belly, but nobody could ride a shark for a half-hour, and conquer him, except a Paumotuan and a diver.”

Mapuhi was glad to be corroborated by Linnæus in his opinion that a white shark and not a whale had been the divine instrument in teaching the doubting Jonah to upbraid Nineveh even at the risk of his life. The great Swedish naturalist says:

Jonam Prophetum ut veteris Herculem trinoctem, in hujus ventriculo, tridui spatro baesisse, verisimile est.

Also, Mapuhi was deeply interested by my telling him that at Marseilles a shark was caught in which was a man in complete armor. He had me describe a suit of armor as I had seen it in the notable collection in Madrid. He was struck by its resemblance to the modern diver’s suit.

“In the Paumotus,” he said, “the French Government forbids the use of the scaphandre because it cheated the native of his birthright. The merchants, the rich men of Tahiti, could buy and use such diving machinery, but the Paumotuan could not. The natives asked the French government to send away the scaphandre, and to permit the searching for shells by the human being only. I had one of the machines. I could go deeper in it than any diver in the world, so the merchants said. I would go out in my cutter with my men and the scaphandre. I did not put on the whole suit, but only the rubber jacket, on the brass collar of which the helmet was screwed. I fixed this jacket tightly around my waist so that no water could enter, and fastened it about my wrists. Then, with my legs uncovered, I jumped into the lagoon. I had big pieces of lead on my back and breast so as not to be overturned by the weight of the helmet, and an air-hose from the helmet to the pump in the cutter. I would work three hours at a time, but had to come up many times for relief from the pressure.

“One day I was in this suit at the bottom of the lagoon of Hikueru. I had filled my net with shells, and had signaled for it to be hauled up. I was examining a ledge of shells when I felt something touch my helmet. It was a sea-snake about ten feet long and of bright color. It had a long, thin neck, and it was poisonous. I snatched my knife from my belt, and before the snake could bite me I drove the knife into it. It was attacking the glass of my helmet, and not my legs, fortunately. That snake has its enemy, too, for when it lies on the surface to enjoy the sun the sea-eagle falls like a thunderbolt from the sky, seizes it by the back of the head, and flies away with it.