To be alone forty-three days would seem a long time, but in reality,
even here, winged moments flew lightly by, and instead of my hauling
in for Nukahiva, which I could have made as well as not, I kept on for
Samoa, where I wished to make my next landing. This occupied
twenty-nine days more, making seventy-two days in all. I was not
distressed in any way during that time. There was no end of
companionship; the very coral reefs kept me company, or gave me no
time to feel lonely, which is the same thing, and there were many of
them now in my course to Samoa.
First among the incidents of the voyage from Juan Fernandez to Samoa
(which were not many) was a narrow escape from collision with a great
whale that was absent-mindedly plowing the ocean at night while I was
below. The noise from his startled snort and the commotion he made in
the sea, as he turned to clear my vessel, brought me on deck in time
to catch a wetting from the water he threw up with his flukes. The
monster was apparently frightened. He headed quickly for the east; I
kept on going west. Soon another whale passed, evidently a companion,
following in its wake. I saw no more on this part of the voyage, nor
did I wish to.
[Illustration: Meeting with the whale]
Hungry sharks came about the vessel often when she neared islands or
coral reefs. I own to a satisfaction in shooting them as one would a
tiger. Sharks, after all, are the tigers of the sea.
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