I shall never forget what he did to Bill King. It occurredin German Samoa. Bill King was hailed the championheavyweight of the American Navy. He was a big bruteof a man， a veritable gorilla， one of those hard-hitting，rough-housing chaps， and clever with his fists as well. Hepicked the quarrel， and he kicked Otoo twice and struckhim once before Otoo felt it to be necessary to fight. Idon’t think it lasted four minutes， at the end of whichtime Bill King was the unhappy possessor of four brokenribs， a broken forearm， and a dislocated shoulder blade.
Otoo knew nothing of scientific boxing. He was merelya manhandler； and Bill King was something like threemonths in recovering from the bit of manhandling hereceived that afternoon on Apia beach.
But I am running ahead of my yarn. We shared thehatch 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 andin the water， we drifted over the ocean. Towards the lastI was delirious most of the time； and there were times，too， when I heard Otoo babbling and raving in his nativetongue. Our continuous immersion prevented us fromdying of thirst， though the sea water and the sunshine gaveus the prettiest imaginable combination of salt pickle andsunburn.
In the end， Otoo saved my life； for I came to lying onthe beach twenty feet from the water， sheltered fromthe sun by a couple of cocoanut leaves. No one but Otoocould have dragged me there and stuck up the leaves forshade. He was lying beside me. I went off again； and thenext time I came round， it was cool and starry night， andOtoo was pressing a drinking cocoanut to my lips.
We were the sole survivors of the Petite Jeanne. CaptainOudouse must have succumbed to exhaustion， for severaldays 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 toTahiti. In the meantime， however， we had performed theceremony of exchanging names. In the South Seas sucha ceremony binds two men closer together than bloodbrothership. The initiative had been mine； and Otoo wasrapturously delighted when I suggested it.
“It is well，” he said， in Tahitian. “For we have been matestogether for two days on the lips of Death.”
“But death stuttered，” I smiled.
“It was a brave deed you did， master，” he replied， “andDeath was not vile enough to speak.”
“Why do you ‘master’ me？” I demanded， with a showof hurt feelings. “We have exchanged names. To you I amOtoo. To me you are Charley. And between you and me，forever and forever， you shall be Charley， and I shall beOtoo. It is the way of the custom. And when we die， if itdoes happen that we live again somewhere beyond thestars and the sky， still shall you be Charley to me， and IOtoo to you.”
“Yes， master，” he answered， his eyes luminous and softwith 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. Andbeyond 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 hadtold 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 firstgreetings.
I shrugged my shoulders. It was a hard question.
“All the world，” was my answer— “all the world， all thesea， 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 ofother men’s brothers， I doubt if any man ever had abrother that was to him what Otoo was to me. He wasbrother and father and mother as well. And this I know： Ilived a straighter and better man because of Otoo. I caredlittle for other men， but I had to live straight in Otoo’seyes. Because of him I dared not tarnish myself. He mademe his ideal， compounding me， I fear， chiefly out of hisown love and worship and there were times when I stoodclose to the steep pitch of hell， and would have taken theplunge had not the thought of Otoo restrained me. Hispride in me entered into me， until it became one of themajor rules in my personal code to do nothing that woulddiminish that pride of his.
Naturally， I did not learn right away what his feelingswere toward me. He never criticized， never censured； andslowly the exalted place I held in his eyes dawned uponme， and slowly I grew to comprehend the hurt I couldinflict upon him by being anything less than my best.
For seventeen years we were together； for seventeenyears he was at my shoulder， watching while I slept，nursing me through fever and wounds—ay， and receivingwounds in fighting for me. He signed on the same shipswith me； and together we ranged the Pacific from Hawaiito Sydney Head， and from Torres Straits to the Galapagos.
We blackbirded from the New Hebrides and the LineIslands over to the westward clear through the Louisades，New Britain， New Ireland， and New Hanover. We werewrecked three times—in the Gilberts， in the Santa Cruzgroup， and in the Fijis. And we traded and salved wherevera dollar promised in the way of pearl and pearl shell， copra，beche-de-mer， hawkbill turtle shell， and stranded wrecks.
