THE BLACK FIN
The boys had fully intended removing their shoes and going ashore in
their bare feet, but as they started to do so, the men grinned and
stopped them. Yorke, with his twisted mouth leering and his gray head
streaming with perspiration, lay on his oar and gave them some advice.
"Young gem'men, don't go for to do them foolish things, not in these
here seas! First place, that 'ere sand on the island will be hotter'n
blazes. Then if ye go wadin' around ye'll get poisoned wi' coral, or
ye'll step on little crabs ye can't see, but they'll get under your
skin, like; or else ye'll find animiles what'll bore little round holes
in your flesh, an' them kind o' things. It ain't safe, young gem'men."
At first the boys thought he was joking, but a glance at old Borden
showed that Yorke had been in earnest.
"Don't ye do it," added that soft-voiced seaman, who was so much like
Jerry in his ways. "Yorke's tellin' ye true, lads. Things ain't so nice
as they looks on these islands, you can take your davy to that!"
At this juncture Daily and Birch also paused to rest. The boys had
desisted from their object, and Birch spoke up, his one eye flaming
queerly.
"Beggin' your pardon, young sirs, but be you a-goin' to hunt tigers wi'
the cap'n?" At the question all four men looked aft at the boys.
"Sure," rejoined Bob happily.
"Not right away, though," added Mart, wondering at the looks and the
question. "We're goin' to see the diving first. Later on we'll go ashore
after a tiger."
"Give way, there," ordered Borden quietly, but as the four oars dipped
Mart caught an odd glance exchanged among the men. He wondered idly what
they were thinking of, but they were close on the island now and he was
too eager to be ashore to waste any time in vain speculation.
At length the boat ran up on the clean white sand, all leaped out, and
she was at once pulled up. Dailey volunteered to stay with her, and the
other three men started off to wander on their own account, while the
two boys, arranging to be back in an hour or so, started across to the
seaward side. The brief ride in the hot sun had quite cured Bob of his
romantic notions regarding the rifle, which he now left in the boat, for
it was a heavy weight and he had lost his desire to shoot when Mart
suggested that it would only alarm those aboard the yacht.
It was ebb tide, and as they gained the opposite side of the narrow
island and came out upon the long reaches of white sand, the wild
delight of the boys was unrestrained. They were in a new world. Even the
trees were crimson, there was no lack of wonderful but ill-smelling
flowers, and among the bushes and trees fluttered butterflies of
gorgeous hues. But out on the sands they forgot all this.
They found shells by the score, such shells as they had never seen, of
all colors and hues. Then, in a little bay of the shore, Mart stumbled
on a starfish, deep red, with rich black bosses, and Bob splashed into a
pool to extricate two small but very gaudy sponges.
Then there were smaller fragments of coral, ruby red and white, and
oyster shells--some brick-red, others of mixed and more gorgeous
hues--while more complex shells whose names the boys could not guess lay
strewn about indiscriminately with fragments of streaming seaweed. Then
Bob wandered ahead, and Mart saw him turn with a cautious gesture,
motioning to him.
Mart stuffed the starfish into his pocket and caught up his all but
forgotten camera. When he joined Bob at one side of the little bay and
looked through the bushes at the shore beyond, he understood. For there
was a long stretch of mingled coral and sand exposed by the low tide,
and perhaps fifty yards distant were two birds--curlews--running toward
the boys with nervous, jerky motions. They were furtively picking up
crabs, and Mart quickly set up his camera and focused it. But the
instant he began to turn the crank, the two birds ceased their antics.
With an inquiring pipe, they looked toward the slight click; then one of
them desperately snatched up a crab and both flew off together.
"By golly!" exclaimed Mart. "I got 'em anyhow! Let's go see the crabs!"
They found them--big gray fellows that scuttled away or disappeared in
the sand as the boys approached. Try as they would they could not catch
one, and being unable to dig, they finally gave up, tired and winded.
"Say, do you like raw oysters?" exclaimed Mart, while they were resting
in the hot sand.
"You bet!" returned Bob. "Why?"
"Well, look out there where that coral shows."
Perhaps twenty feet from the edge of the water protruded the low ragged
edges of a coral reef, and Bob gained his feet instantly. The water
inside the reef was only a few inches deep, and even from where they
stood they could make out splotches against the coral that told of
oysters.
Without a word Bob led the way, Mart following hastily. Getting their
shoes wet mattered little, for they would dry again in five minutes of
walking in the blistering sand, and when they finally stood on the coral
reef they soon had torn half a dozen good-sized oysters from their perch
and waded in to shore again.
"They look good," said Mart, gazing doubtfully at the tightly-closed
gray-green shells. "How you goin' to open 'em?"
"With a knife," grinned Bob, pulling out his heavy pocket-knife.
He went to work, and remained at work for five minutes. At the end of
that time he gazed disgustedly at his hacked knife blade and gave up in
despair. Mart suggested warming the oysters over a fire.
"Good idea, Mart!" cried Bob, springing up. "We'll eat a couple, then
take a mess back to dad, eh?"
They soon had a small fire of dry bush alight, and under the influence
of its heat they got two or three of the oysters open. Each of the boys
swallowed one--then they looked at each other blankly.
"Didn't taste right to me," declared Mart.
"Me neither. I never ate any like that in 'Frisco, by juniper!"
They unanimously decided that they would not eat any more, and before
they had stamped out their fire Bob found that he wanted very much to
inspect a scarlet-leaved tree a short distance back in the bush. Mart
saw another tree that he wanted to look at, and after fifteen minutes
had passed, two very pale and disgusted boys crawled out to the warm
beach again and lay there recuperating.
"By golly, I don't want any more of those oysters," said Mart, gaining
his feet after a little. Picking up the offending molluscs, he hurled
them out again into the sea, and Bob grinned faintly.
"No," he agreed, "I guess Ah Sing's cooking'll do me for quite a spell.
By juniper, that oyster must have gone down wrong!"
"So did mine," replied Mart, "but it come up again--right. I move we hit
for the boat. I've had enough o' this, by golly! It's as Borden said;
things ain't what they seem, not by a long shot!"
With that, they hit across the island for the lagoon side once more.
They passed several trees which bore most attractive-looking fruits, and
berry-laden bushes, but beyond pausing once or twice to consume a few
feet of his reel at opportune points, Mart paid no attention. He and Bob
had learned a lesson and learned it well.
By the time they emerged on the inner shore of the island, however, they
were feeling perfectly recovered once more. Here the shore was flat and
level, and as they looked about for the boat, it appeared a few hundred
yards to their left. Dailey was lying asleep in its shadow, and out in
the lagoon itself the _Seamew_ was swinging lazily at her cable. There
was no sign of any prau bringing back Jerry Smith, and the other three
men who had landed were not in sight.
"Where are the men gone?" asked Bob, as Dailey sat up at their approach.
The leathery-faced seaman waved a hand toward the upper end of the
island.
"They went off that way, sir. Ain't showed up yet."
"Well, let's row up and meet 'em," suggested Mart. Bob agreed at once,
and all three piled into the boat as they shoved it out.
Mart and Dailey took an oar apiece, Bob reclining in the stern, and they
slowly rowed up toward the far end of the island, where was a wide
channel connecting the lagoon with the open sea beyond.
As they rowed, the two boys were lost in wonder at sight of the glories
below them, for here the water was clear as crystal, though Dailey
declared it to be a couple of fathoms deep or more. Sponges, marine
fans, fish, coral, and all the under-water life lay open to them, in
colors more gorgeous and magnificent than either boy had ever dreamed
of. Bob declared it far ahead of the Santa Catalina sea-gardens, and
Mart could hardly row for his wondering admiration; but he was finally
recalled to himself by a quick exclamation from Bob.
"Hold up there, both o' you! What's that ahead?"
Mart and Dailey glanced around, and an echoing cry broke from the
seaman. Fifty yards ahead of them and slowly cutting the water in their
direction, was a black triangle that seemed part of some machine, so
evenly and steadily did it move along. But the size of it! Mart guessed
instantly that it was the dorsal fin of a shark, but he had seen no fin
of such size before.
"It's the Pirate Shark, Holly!" he cried suddenly, and plunged down for
the rifle. Bob stooped for it at the same instant, but Mart was too
quick for him. He rose again to find Dailey looking at them, aghast.
"Where might you lads 'a' heard o' the Pirate Shark?" queried the seaman
hoarsely. Mart had no time to waste on him.
"None of your business," he returned sharply. "Keep steady there--"
"You'll waste the bullet, Mart," and Bob stopped him. "It'll simply
glance off the water at this angle. Hold on till we get closer!"
"Don't you do it, sir," implored Dailey, his leathery face suddenly
pale. "It's the Pirate Shark, all right--don't you fire on him, sir! My
word on it, Mr. Judson, it'll be a bad day for us all--"
"Oh, cut out that superstitious talk, Dailey," broke in Mart
impatiently. "He's a shark, and a big one; pirate or not, if I can't get
to him I'll put a bullet through that big fin of his."
"That's the idea!" exclaimed Bob. "But quit talking or we'll scare him
off. Hit the fin, Mart--don't waste time tryin' to make the bullet
penetrate the water unless we get up close alongside."
Mart, quivering with excitement, got a bead on that tremendous black fin
which was now turning as if to proceed across their bows. It would be
futile to attempt shooting the shark at such a distance, for as Bob said
the bullet would simply glance from the surface of the water.
Suddenly Mart perceived that the fin was turning away from them.
Instantly he sighted for its center, made sure of his bead, and fired.
He saw the fin flutter wildly, then there was a great swirl of waters,
and as the heavy detonation rang over the lagoon the black fin vanished
amid the foam.
"Hit!" yelled Bob. "There are the men, Mart!"
Indeed, the figures of the three seaman were visible, running down the
sand, and Mart waved a hand at the yacht as he sat down, for he knew
that Swanson and the captain would be watching. But the greatest thought
in his mind was that black fin. The Pirate Shark was a reality! They had
seen its "black flag" and he had sent a bullet through it!
None of the three spoke as they pulled the heavy boat in to the beach
where the men waited. As they approached, the three seamen splashed out
and piled aboard, Mart taking his place again in the stern. The first
question, naturally, was for the cause of the firing.
"We saw the Pirate Shark," answered Dailey. "We put a bullet through its
fin."
"Huh?" one incredulous cry broke from the other three. "Who fired it?"
"Mr. Judson done it."
Three pairs of eyes swept to Mart, who laughed at the amazement of the
men. "Well, why not?" he wanted to know.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Birch. "You fired on the Pirate Shark, lad?
Then I'm main sorry for you, that I am!"
"Why so, Birch?" queried Bob, leaning forward and grinning.
"Because it's bad luck, young gem'man," replied Yorke soberly enough,
for all his twisted mouth. "It's mortal bad luck! If you'd put a bullet
in that there Pirate Shark, you'd 'a' broke old Jerry's heart, you
would--"
"Oh, shut up, Yorke!" snapped Birch. "Give way, everybody! There's a
boat!"
The boys turned and saw one of the native praus coming from the river
toward the yacht. The superstition of the seamen affected them not at
all, and Mart felt that all bans were now off, and they could tell
Captain Hollinger about the Pirate Shark whenever they chose. Jerry was
no doubt aboard the native boat now approaching--and Mart did not feel
half so anxious to shoot tigers as he did to get after the Pirate Shark.
For the Pirate Shark really existed, beyond any doubt!