Eatee she had been.

Eatee she remained.

Her destination merely had been changed, and this big fella white marster of the _Arangi_ would undoubtedly be her destination when she had sufficiently fattened.

His designs on her had been transparent from the first, when he had tried to feed her up.

And she had outwitted him by resolutely eating no more than would barely keep her alive.
As a result, she, who had lived in the bush all her days and never so much as set foot in a canoe, rocked and rolled unendingly over the broad ocean in a perpetual nightmare of fear.