Yet he was not strait-laced. And he knew nothing of common
Christian morality. All the people on Bora Bora were Christians.
But he was a heathen, the only unbeliever on the island, a gross
materialist who believed that when he died he was dead. He
believed merely in fair play and square-dealing. Petty meanness,
in his code, was almost as serious as wanton homicide, and I am
sure that he respected a murderer more than a man given to small
practices. Concerning me, personally, he objected to my doing
anything that was hurtful to me. Gambling was all right. He was
an ardent gambler himself. But late hours, he explained, were bad
for one's health. He had seen men who did not take care of
themselves die of fever. He was no teetotaler, and welcomed a
stiff nip any time when it was wet work in the boats. On the
other hand, he believed in liquor in moderation. He had seen many
men killed or disgraced by squareface or Scotch.

Otoo had my welfare always at heart. He thought ahead for me,
weighed my plans and took a greater interest in them than I did
myself. At first, when I was unaware of this interest of his in
my affairs, he had to divine my intentions, as, for instance, at
Papeete, when I contemplated going partners with a knavish fellow
countryman on a guano venture. I did not know he was a knave. Nor
did any white man in Papeete. Neither did Otoo know; but he saw
how thick we were getting and found out for me, and that without
my asking. Native sailors from the ends of the seas knock about
on the beach in Tahiti, and Otoo, suspicious merely, went among
them till he had gathered sufficient data to justify his
suspicions. Oh, it was a nice history, that of Randolph Waters! I
couldn't believe it when Otoo first narrated it, but when I
sheeted it home to Waters he gave in without a murmur and got