I could easily have knocked down this native, who was within a short length; but I thought that it was better to wait for real hostile demonstrations. Between Europeans and savages, it is proper for the Europeans to parry sharply, not to attack. During low water the natives roamed about near the _Nautilus_, but were not troublesome; I heard them frequently repeat the word “Assai,” and by their gestures I understood that they invited me to go on land, an invitation that I declined. So that, on that day, the boat did not push off, to the great displeasure of Master Land, who could not complete his provisions. This adroit Canadian employed his time in preparing the viands and meat that he had brought off the island. As for the savages, they returned to the shore about eleven o’clock in the morning, as soon as the coral tops began to disappear under the rising tide; but I saw their numbers had increased considerably on the shore. Probably they came from the neighbouring islands, or very likely from Papua. However, I had not seen a single native canoe. Having nothing better to do, I thought of dragging these beautiful limpid waters, under which I saw a profusion of shells, zoophytes, and marine plants. Moreover, it was the last day that the _Nautilus_ would pass in these parts, if it float in open sea the next day, according to Captain Nemo’s promise. I therefore called Conseil, who brought me a little light drag, very like those for the oyster fishery. Now to work! For two hours we fished unceasingly, but without bringing up any rarities. The drag was filled with midas-ears, harps, melames, and particularly the most beautiful hammers I have ever seen. We also brought up some sea-slugs, pearl-oysters, and a dozen little turtles that were reserved for the pantry on board. But just when I expected it least, I put my hand on a wonder, I might say a natural deformity, very rarely met with. Conseil was just dragging, and his net came up filled with divers ordinary shells, when, all at once, he saw me plunge my arm quickly into the net, to draw out a shell, and heard me utter a cry. “What is the matter, sir?” he asked in surprise. “Has master been bitten?” “No, my boy; but I would willingly have given a finger for my discovery.” “What discovery?” “This shell,” I said, holding up the object of my triumph. “It is simply an olive porphyry, genus olive, order of the pectinibranchidæ, class of gasteropods, sub-class mollusca.” “Yes, Conseil; but, instead of being rolled from right to left, this olive turns from left to right.” “Is it possible?” “Yes, my boy; it is a left shell.” Shells are all right-handed, with rare exceptions; and, when by chance their spiral is left, amateurs are ready to pay their weight in gold.