A DESPERATE STRUGGLE
For a second after swallowing the bait the shark remained perfectly
still. Then he darted away, only to be brought up with a round turn as
he reached the end of the rope.
It half stunned him and wholly bewildered him. He did not know what had
happened. He tried again, but with the same result.
Then, as he realized that he was hooked, the fury of the shark became
frightful. He sprang out of the water, lashing the waves into foam. The
mast creaked and strained, and the counter of the _Ariel_ was
pulled down until the water rushed over the side.
"Get up the sail," shouted Lester, rushing to the tiller. "He'll capsize
us if we don't."
Teddy and Bill sprang to help Fred, and the sail was quickly hoisted.
The wind caught it at once, and as the breeze was a stiff one, it
swelled out the sail to the fullest extent, and with this added
resistance against the struggles of the shark, the _Ariel_ was soon
on an even keel.
"There!" exclaimed Lester, with a sigh of relief, "now we can hold our
own. I thought for a minute that we were going over. And just now I
wouldn't want to get too close to that pirate. Something seems to have
ruffled his temper."
The rage of the shark was beyond belief. At first he tried to disgorge
the hook. But it had a secure grip and his efforts only served to
exhaust him. Then he snapped furiously at the chain with his mighty
jaws.
"Do you think he can break it?" asked Bill anxiously.
"Not on your life," answered Lester serenely. "If it were rope, he'd
snap it as though it were thread. But even the jaws of a shark can't
bite through a three-inch iron chain."
The shark darted here and there, trying by sudden jerks to break the
chain. But it held fast despite his tremendous efforts. Then he changed
his tactics and hurled himself against the _Ariel_ with a force
that made the timbers shiver.
"Do you think he can start a leak?" asked Fred, as the deck shook under
him.
"I hope not," answered Lester, "but he might. The _Ariel_ is a
mighty stout boat, but she wasn't built to stand the rushes of a crazy
shark."
"What about giving him a clip with the hatchet the next time he comes
close enough?" suggested Fred.
"Suppose you try it," was the answer. "Get a tight grip on the rail and
bend away over. Then the next time he hits the boat, hit him on the
nose. If you catch him right it will stun him, and then I can finish him
with the harpoon."
Fred grasped the hatchet and disposed himself to take advantage of the
next rush. He gripped the rail with his left hand, while Bill and Teddy
held his legs tightly.
"If you go over, we go over with you," Teddy assured him.
"The shark would have a square meal then for fair," laughed Fred.
But the shark seemed to understand the trap laid for him and refused to
fall in with their plans. He resorted again to fierce lunging and
diving, but did not again approach the boat.
"He's laughing at you," jibed Teddy.
"I don't think he feels like laughing at anything just now," replied
Fred, as he rose to his feet. "But he's evidently given up the idea of
dashing his brains out against the boat."
"He'll be tired out before long," judged Lester, "and then I'll give you
a chance to see what an expert I am at throwing a harpoon."
It was clear that the sea pirate was exhausting his strength in his
futile struggles. His long career of cruelty and rapine was rapidly
coming to an end.
"I think I have a chance now," said Lester, after a few minutes more had
passed. "You take the tiller, Teddy, while Bill and Fred haul him in."
But this was not an easy task. Fred and Bill strained until they felt as
though their arms were being pulled out of their sockets. But the shark
still had enough strength left to make them pay dearly for every inch
they gained.
But they were gaining, nevertheless. They wound the slack around a cleat
as they pulled it in, so as not to lose what they had once won. Lester
joined them after he had got the harpoon ready to throw, and with this
reinforcement they soon had the shark within three feet of the stern of
the boat.
"That's near enough," said Lester, rising to his feet and grasping the
harpoon. "Now hold fast while I throw."
He took careful aim, poised himself so as to get his full force into the
cast and let his weapon go. It hissed through the air straight at its
quarry. But the shark lunged aside, and the harpoon clove the water
three inches to the right.
"Good shot, old scout!" cried Fred, as Lester, a little chagrined at the
miss, drew the dripping harpoon in over the side. "It wasn't your fault
that you didn't get him. It was going at him straight as an arrow when
he dodged."
"I'll get him yet," muttered Lester to himself, as he straightened up
for another effort.
He took his time in aiming and summoned up all his strength. Then he
threw.
The sharp point caught the shark a little behind the head and went clear
through his body. It must have struck a vital point for the monster gave
one convulsive leap and fell back in its death flurry, lashing the water
into yeast. Then it turned part way over and remained motionless, the
leverage of the shaft preventing it from turning wholly on its back.
A yell of triumph went up from the delighted boys.
"Glory, hallelujah!" shouted Teddy.
"That was a dandy throw, old scout!" cried Bill, clapping Lester on the
back.
"This is our lucky day," yelled Fred in great exultation.
Lester flushed with pleasure. He had vindicated his throwing ability,
and had proved himself a worthy son of his sea-going forebears.
"Father will be tickled to death when he hears of it," he remarked,
trying to speak coolly, as though harpooning a shark was a daily
occurrence with him. "He hates the brutes with all his soul. He was
nearly nipped by one while in the water off the Bahamas, and his mates
just hauled him on board in time."
"Well, now that we've got him, what are we going to do with him?" asked
practical Bill.
"Could we pull him on board, do you think?" inquired Teddy.
"Not in a hundred years," replied Lester. "If we had a pulley big enough
and rope strong enough, we might hoist him up, but in no other way. I
guess the best way to do is to crowd on sail and tow him in to Milton."
"How much further do we have to go?" asked Fred.
"Oh, it's a matter of ten or twelve miles yet," was the answer. "If we
were free, we could make it in a little over an hour the way this wind
is holding up. But the shark will be a big drag against us, and it will
take us at least twice as long. The harpoon sticking out at that angle
helps to keep us back."
"What do we care how long it takes us to get there!" gloated Teddy. "We
have all the time there is and I don't care whether it takes us two
hours or ten. We'll have something to show the natives when we do get
there."
"Oh, they've seen plenty of sharks," said Lester. "But I don't think
they've often clapped eyes on one as big as this."
"After we reach Milton, how are we going to get the shark ashore?"
persisted Bill.
"Oh, that will be no trick at all," was the answer. "The beach shelves
out gradually there and I can take the _Ariel_ pretty close in.
Then you fellows can tumble overboard and wade in, dragging the shark
with you. We couldn't lift him, but it will be easy enough to drag him
up on the sand."
"I'm anxious to get close to him so that I can study him," said Fred.
"You might have been nearer to one than you liked the day you went over
after Ross," laughed Bill.
"Yes," admitted Fred, "he'd have had the laugh on me then. But they
laugh best who laugh last."
"And we're laughing last, all right," declared Lester.
"Thanks to your good arm and the old harpoon," added Bill.
"We have with us to-day, gentlemen," said Teddy, assuming the air and
tone of a professional introducer, "two renowned throwers. Indeed, I may
say three.
"This gentleman at the tiller, Mr. Lester Lee, throws the harpoon. This
other at the sheet, Mr. Frederic Rushton, throws the baseball. This
idler at my right, Mr. William Garwood, throws the lasso. I admit,
gentlemen, with deep regret, that of all this illustrious company I am
the only one who doesn't throw something."
"Oh yes you do," put in Bill quickly.
"What?"
"You throw the bull," said Bill.