DREAMS OF LIBERTY 87 



It was hauled close alongside, and a boat hav- 

 ng been lowered, a large patch of the shark's 

 skin was cut off. Then the carcass was cut 

 adrift. The skin was as rough as sandpaper. It 

 was cut into small squares, which were used in 

 scouring metal and for all the polishing purposes 

 for which sandpaper serves ashore. 



Life aboard the brig seemed less intolerable 

 thereafter, and an essay at escape through 

 waters infested by such great, silent, ravenous 

 sea-wolves seemed a hazard less desirable than 

 before. Taylor talked no more about slugging 

 the night watch. Slim unpacked his sea-boots 

 and put his effects back into his chest. Peter 

 threw his plugged oil cans overboard. Bill 

 White turned his canvas boat into curtains for 

 his bunk, and Ole Oleson voiced in the lilting 

 measure of Scandinavia his deep regret that he 

 had cut up a valuable suit of oil-skins. 



The captain of one of the whaling ships came 

 one afternoon to visit our skipper and his small 

 boat was left dragging in our wake as the brig 

 skimmed along under short sail. It occurred to 

 me, and at the same time to my two Kanaka 



