t of her hull, the bow; going completely
through the copper plates and timbers, and showing for several inches
in the hold. On the return of the ship to London, it was carefully
sawn out; and, imbedded in the original wood, like a fossil, is still
preserved. But this was a comparatively harmless onslaught of the
valiant Chevalier. With the Rousseau, of Nantucket, it fared worse.
She was almost mortally stabbed; her assailant withdrawing his blade.
And it was only by keeping the pumps clanging, that she managed to
swim into a Tahitian harbor, "heave down," and have her wound dressed
by a ship-surgeon with tar and oakum. This ship I met with at sea,
shortly after the disaster.

At what armory our Chevalier equips himself after one of his spiteful
tilting-matches, it would not be easy to say. But very hard for him,
if ever after he goes about in the lists, swordless and disarmed, at
the mercy of any caitiff shark he may meet.

Now, seeing that our fellow-voyagers, the little fish along-side,
were sorely tormented and thinned out by the incursions of a
pertinacious Chevalier, bent upon making a hearty breakfast out of
them, I determined to interfere in their behalf, and capture the
enemy.

With shark-hook and line I succeeded, and brought my brave gentleman
to the deck. He made an emphatic landing; lashing the planks with his
sinewy tail; while a yard and a half in advance of his eyes, reached
forth his terrible blade.

As victor, I was entitled to the arms of the vanquished; so, quickly
dispatching him, and sawing off his Toledo, I bore it away for a
trophy. It was three-sided, slightly concave on each, like a bayonet;
and some three inches through at the base, it tapered from thence to
a point.

And though tempered not in Tagus or Guadalquiver, it yet revealed
upon its surface that wavy grain and watery fleckiness peculiar to
tried blades of Spain. It was an aromatic sword; like the ancient
caliph's, giving out a peculiar musky odor by friction. But far
different from steel of Tagus or Damascus, it was inflexible as
Crocket's rifle tube; no doubt, as deadly.

Long hung that rapier over the head of my hammock. Was it not storied
as the good trenchant blade of brave Bayard, that other chevalier?
The knight's may have slain its scores, or fifties; but the weapon I
preserved had, doubtless, run through and riddled its thousands.

CHAPTER XXXIII
Otard

And here is another little incident.

One afternoon whi