y. There was
a full moon, and by eight o'clock the land was due east and two miles
away. She struggled on for another hour, but the land was as far away as
ever. She was in the main grip of the current; the canoe was too large;
the paddle was too inadequate; and too much of her time and strength
was wasted in bailing. Besides, she was very weak and growing weaker.
Despite her efforts, the canoe was drifting off to the westward.

She breathed a prayer to her shark god, slipped over the side, and began
to swim. She was actually refreshed by the water, and quickly left the
canoe astern. At the end of an hour the land was perceptibly nearer.
Then came her fright. Right before her eyes, not twenty feet away, a
large fin cut the water. She swam steadily toward it, and slowly it
glided away, curving off toward the right and circling around her. She
kept her eyes on the fin and swam on. When the fin disappeared, she
lay face downward in the water and watched. When the fin reappeared she
resumed her swimming. The monster was lazy--she could see that. Without
doubt he had been well fed since the hurricane. Had he been very hungry,
she knew he would not have hesitated from making a dash for her. He was
fifteen feet long, and one bite, she knew, could cut her in half.

But she did not have any time to waste on him. Whether she swam or not,
the current drew away from the land just the same. A half hour went
by, and the shark began to grow bolder. Seeing no harm in her he drew
closer, in narrowing circles, cocking his eyes at her impudently as
he slid past. Sooner or later, she knew well enough, he would get up
sufficient courage to dash at her. She resolved to play first. It was a
desperate act she meditated. She was an old woman, alone in the sea and
weak from starvation and hardship; and yet she, in the face of this sea
tiger, must anticipate his dash by herself dashing at him. She swam on,
waiting her chance. At last he passed languidly by, barely eight feet
away. She rushed at him suddenly, feigning that she was attacking him.
He gave a wild flirt of his tail as he fled away, and his sandpaper
hide, striking her, took off her skin from elbow to shoulder. He swam
rapidly, in a widening circle, and at last disappeared.

In the hole in the sand, covered over by fragments of metal roofing,
Mapuhi and Tefara lay disputing.

"If you had done as I said," charged Tefara, for the thousandth time,
"and hidden the pearl and told no one,