liquid. She had no time to waste in extracting the meat. A current was
setting to the westward, she made westing whether she made southing or
not.

In the early afternoon, standing upright in the canoe, she sighted
Hikueru. Its wealth of cocoanut palms was gone. Only here and there, at
wide intervals, could she see the ragged remnants of trees. The sight
cheered her. She was nearer than she had thought. The current was
setting her to the westward. She bore up against it and paddled on.
The wedges in the paddle lashing worked loose, and she lost much time,
at frequent intervals, in driving them tight. Then there was the
bailing. One hour in three she had to cease paddling in order to bail.
And all the time she drifted to the westward.

By sunset Hikueru bore southeast from her, three miles away. 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