The particular instance I have in mind was on Malaita，the most savage island in the easterly Solomons. Thenatives had been remarkably friendly； and how werewe to know that the whole village had been taking up acollection for over two years with which to buy a whiteman’s head？ The beggars are all head-hunters， and theyespecially esteem a white man’s head. The fellow whocaptured the head would receive the whole collection. AsI say， they appeared very friendly； and on this day I wasfully a hundred yards down the beach from the boat. Otoohad cautioned me； and， as usual when I did not heed him，I came to grief.
The first I knew， a cloud of spears sailed out of themangrove swamp at me. At least a dozen were stickinginto me. I started to run， but tripped over one that wasfast in my calf， and went down. The woolly-heads made arun for me， each with a long-handled， fantail tomahawkwith which to hack off my head. They were so eagerfor the prize that they got in one another’s way. In theconfusion， I avoided several hacks by throwing myselfright and left on the sand.
Then Otoo arrived—Otoo the manhandler. In some wayhe had got hold of a heavy war club， and at close quartersit was a far more efficient weapon than a rifle. He wasright in the thick of them， so that they could not spearhim， while their tomahawks seemed worse than useless.
He was fighting for me， and he was in a true Berserkerrage. The way he handled that club was amazing.
Their skulls squashed like overripe oranges. It was notuntil he had driven them back， picked me up in his arms，and started to run， that he received his first wounds.
He arrived in the boat with four spear thrusts， got hisWinchester， and with it got a man for every shot. Then wepulled aboard the schooner， and doctored up.
Seventeen years we were together. He made me. Ishould today be a supercargo， a recruiter， or a memory， ifit had not been for him.
“You spend your money， and you go out and get more，”
he said one day. “It is easy to get money now. But whenyou get old， your money will be spent， and you will not beable to go out and get more. I know， master. I have studiedthe way of white men. On the beaches are many old menwho were young once， and who could get money just likeyou. Now they are old， and they have nothing， and theywait about for the young men like you to come ashore andbuy drinks for them.
“The black boy is a slave on the plantations. He getstwenty dollars a year. He works hard. The overseer doesnot work hard.
“He rides a horse and watches the black boy work. Hegets twelve hundred dollars a year. I am a sailor on theschooner. I get fifteen dollars a month. That is because Iam a good sailor. I work hard. The captain has a doubleawning， and drinks beer out of long bottles. I have neverseen him haul a rope or pull an oar. He gets one hundredand fifty dollars a month. I am a sailor. He is a navigator.
’master， I think it would be very good for you to knownavigation.”
Otoo spurred me on to it. He sailed with me as secondmate on my first schooner， and he was far prouder of mycommand than I was myself. Later on it was：
“The captain is well paid， master； but the ship is in hiskeeping， and he is never free from the burden. It is theowner who is better paid—the owner who sits ashore withmany servants and turns his money over.”
“True， but a schooner costs five thousand dollars—anold schooner at that，” I objected. “I should be an old manbefore I saved five thousand dollars.”
“There be short ways for white men to make money，” hewent on， pointing ashore at the cocoanut-fringed beach.
We were in the Solomons at the time， picking up a cargoof ivory nuts along the east coast of Guadalcanar.
“Between this river mouth and the next it is two miles，”
he said.
“The flat land runs far back. It is worth nothing now.
Next year—who knows？ —or the year after， men willpay much money for that land. The anchorage is good.
Big steamers can lie close up. You can buy the land fourmiles deep from the old chief for ten thousand sticks oftobacco， ten bottles of square-face， and a Snider， whichwill cost you， maybe， one hundred dollars. Then you placethe deed with the commissioner； and the next year， or theyear after， you sell and become the owner of a ship.”
I followed his lead， and his words came true， thoughin three years， instead of two. Next came the grasslandsdeal on Guadalcanar—twenty thousand acres， on agovernmental nine hundred and ninety-nine years’ lease ata nominal sum. I owned the lease for precisely ninety days，when I sold it to a company for half a fortune. Always itwas Otoo who looked ahead and saw the opportunity. Hewas responsible for the salving of the Doncaster—boughtin at auction for a hundred pounds， and clearing threethousand after every expense was paid. He led me into theSavaii plantation and the cocoa venture on Upolu.
We did not go seafaring so much as in the old days.
I was too well off. I married， and my standard of livingrose； but Otoo remained the same old-time Otoo， movingabout the house or trailing through the office， his woodenpipe in his mouth， a shilling undershirt on his back， and afour-shilling lava-lava about his loins. I could not get himto spend money. There was no way of repaying him exceptwith love， and God knows he got that in full measure fromall of us. The children worshipped him； and if he had beenspoilable， my wife would surely have been his undoing.
The children！ He really was the one who showed themthe way of their feet in the world practical. He began byteaching them to walk. He sat up with them when theywere sick. One by one， when they were scarcely toddlers，he took them down to the lagoon， and made them intoamphibians. He taught them more than I ever knew of thehabits of fish and the ways of catching them. In the bush itwas the same thing. At seven， Tom knew more woodcraftthan I ever dreamed existed. At six， Mary went over theSliding Rock without a quiver， and I have seen strong menbalk at that feat. And when Frank had just turned six hecould bring up shillings from the bottom in three fathoms.
