THE BATTLE
When he gained a full and nearer sight of the Pirate Shark, Mart's
courage all but failed him. For a moment the gigantic fish seemed to
hang poised in the water above and beyond him, some twenty feet away;
what its actual size was Mart could not guess, in the dim and blurred
light, but there could never be another such shark as this in all the
oceans!
Huge, cruel-eyed, with its mouth showing as he looked up at it, Mart
never forgot the horror that seized him at his first face-to-face
meeting with the Pirate Shark. He thought of a thousand things in that
one moment--the uncanny cunning of the terrible fish in first cutting
him off from all help by biting through his lines, poor Bob waiting up
above in agonies of suspense, and above all, the awful fact that unless
he conquered quickly, he would suffocate.
Still the shark hung poised above him, the immense body motionless
except for the gently-waving fins and tail. The big dorsal fin was
hidden from him, so he could not see whether it had been pierced by the
bullet or not. But he must act, and act quickly! What should he do?
In order to get at the monster shark with the kris, he would have to
expose himself. If the brute was cunning enough to cut his lines, he
would be too wise to attempt an attack while Mart stood in the
wedge-shaped opening of the wreck. There, he could not reach the boy,
and would realize it.
Mart wasted no time in hesitation. He was running a terrible risk, for
once the shark butted into him or struck him with its tail, he would be
flung off his balance and would be lost. But remembering his great
lightness in the water, remembering how easily he could leap out of
danger, he stepped forward confidently from his shelter, the kris held
ready.
No sooner had he done so than the shark began to move. Gradually, with a
terrible slowness, the huge shape came forward; the impulse to leap back
to shelter was horribly strong, but Mart resisted it.
Around circled the shark, exposing its full length. Mart trembled at the
sight, for it seemed to him that the brute must be far longer than the
thirty feet which Jerry had assigned as its size. It stretched out
quivering in the depths, ghostly, ominous; and most terrible of all was
the silence that prevailed over all things. Mart wanted to shout, to
yell for aid, and could not.
Almost without warning, the great bulk swept around and came at him,
twisting about so that the gaping mouth could nip him as it swept past.
But Mart was ready; every nerve and muscle in his body was tensed up to
the highest pitch, and as the shark lunged forward, he swerved sharply
back to his shelter.
None too soon, indeed. The gray bulk swept down on him in a great swirl
that almost flung him off his feet; as he reeled, catching at the corner
of the wreck for support, he saw the rough, mottled skin shoot past
hardly a foot away. Mart swiftly jerked up his kris and lunged forward
with all his strength.
He felt the keen weapon shear into the brute and jerk him out, but he
grimly held to his grip. Something struck him and sent him staggering;
then he had pulled the kris free. Barely had he done so when the shark's
huge forked tail drove past his head in a lash of foam and blood, and
Mart reeled back into his shelter. The sides of the wreck caught his
shoulders and kept him upright, fortunately.
He noticed a slight roaring in his ears, and knew that the air was
beginning to get bad in his helmet. He pressed his diving dress and
forced up some of his remaining supply. Peering out, he could not
repress a thrill of exultation--he had won the first round!
Yet it was a strange and awe-inspiring sight that met his gaze. Tingeing
the water a dim red, the immense fish was tearing to and fro in wild
fury, lashing across the entrance like lightning, drawing the water in
swirls and whirlpools that came near to dragging out Mart despite his
grip on the wreck. He felt even the old ship tremble beneath the fierce
blast of water, while the huge gray shape flashed down and across and
up, back and forth, in terrible spasms of rage. But after it trailed
that thin stream of red, and Mart exulted.
"By golly, I've got to finish this thing quick!" he thought vaguely, for
the roaring in his ears had increased, and it was hard to fill his lungs
with the vitiated air. "If I can only settle him, I can cut off these
weights and take a chance on shooting up to the top. It'll be a mighty
slim chance, but it's all I've got."
Rendered desperate by his fear of suffocation, which was even greater
than his fear of the Pirate Shark, he advanced to the edge of the
opening with a resolute determination to take any chance that offered.
Nor was it slow in coming.
Down swept the shark with a rush, flicking in its tail as it passed, and
Mart leaped back only just in time to avoid it. But he saw the brute's
purpose now--to try to suck him out with the swirls of water, or to
strike him over with its tail, and as he eyed the dim gray shape that
was circling around for another rush, he made ready. He must strike as
the huge body flicked past--and he must leap back before the tail could
get to the opening!
That meant only one thing. He would have no chance to pull out his kris
this time. Everything would depend on the one sure stroke, which must be
a death-wound. If not, the kris would be carried off in the shark's
body, and with his little sheath knife alone left him, he would be
helpless.
"Got to do it!" he thought dully, for now his ears were paining, and he
began to feel as if his nose were about to bleed. He was gasping for
air, and forcing up newer air from about his legs and body only relieved
him slightly. "Got to do it this time, or lose out!"
All the water seemed faintly hued with crimson now, and he knew that his
first blow must have worked considerable damage. The shark had dashed
off until he could only see it dimly--a monster shadow that darted
smoothly but erratically about in the distant depths, as if working
itself up to a greater fury. Then it swung about in one wide sweep, and
began to grow plainer as it came down upon him.
Its speed was appalling. During his instant of waiting, Mart's courage
almost failed him; it seemed impossible that he could strike and leap
back in time to avoid the flashing tail!
Nor could he, as it proved. The monster fish drove in upon him, turning
as it came, its bulk seeming to fill all the space above and to crush
him back upon the wreck; then Mart, never giving an inch, shoved his
flame-bladed kris forward, saw it go home to the hilt in the gaping
mouth of the Pirate Shark, and then was swept from his feet.
He went down with a rush in the tremendous swirl of waters, being drawn
along the side of the wreck for a little space; but the fall proved to
be his salvation. As he struggled feebly and vainly to gain his feet, he
could see that everything was gone crimson around him. Through the
bloodstained waters lashed the whiplike tail of the Pirate Shark,
beating with terrific force against the wreck; the fish, blinded by its
own lifeblood, was trying to find its enemy, and a single stroke from
that tail would have finished Mart forever.
He lay quiet, huddled against the wreck, but now there was little fear
of the Pirate Shark in his heart. Whatever the results of that final
blow had been, nothing now mattered except the terrible pains that had
come upon him. The air in his helmet seemed to poison him, his throat
and lungs were on fire, and he knew that he was bleeding at the nose.
"By golly, this is awful!" he muttered thickly.
He determined not to give up without a last struggle, however. He still
had his sheath knife, and he could cut away his weights and shoot up.
Though it would be dangerous, both because of the pressure and because
of the Pirate Shark, he spent no more thought on it but drew his knife
and tried to rise.
This was no easy matter, so evenly was his weight adjusted, but he
finally managed to get up, leaning weakly against the side of the wreck.
His head was buzzing madly, and it was difficult for him to see anything
because of the cloud of blood and stirred-up slime that filled the
water.
He could see nothing of the Pirate Shark, but that did not matter now.
Managing to get out his knife, he tried to stoop over and cut away his
shoes. To his terror, he lost balance again and fell weakly forward,
unable to stop himself. He was gasping and fighting for breath now, but
there was no good air for him to breathe. He felt dimly that he was
gone.
He had no strength; still he fought up to his feet once more, savagely
determined not to give in to the suffocation, trying vainly to rid
himself of the helmet. But he had dropped his knife, and dared not stoop
for it for fear he could not regain his balance.
Suddenly something flickered across the glass window, and he gasped out
a broken laugh, thinking it a snake. Snakes would trouble him little,
after battling with the Pirate Shark! But was it a snake? It stayed
unaccountably still; then it began to jerk forward and back most
strangely, switching against the glass before his eyes. He put out his
hand and touched it--rough hemp! Then he saw that a piece of metal was
fastened at the end, and was bumping against his legs. It was a rope.
"Good old Bob!" he thought, as a momentary wave of coherence restored
his brain to itself for an instant. "I've got to fasten it--don't
believe I can hold on very long!"
However, the trailing end of his own life line was still attached to his
belt. Hauling it in, he managed to get the two lines knotted, then gave
the four pulls to "haul up!" He perceived the line tighten immediately,
when a terrible gasping for air seized him and shook him; he tore at his
diving suit with his hands, a spasm of agony making him reckless whether
he let in the water or not. But fortunately the rubber-cloth was stout.
His frantic efforts had exhausted what little oxygen was left to him. He
knew faintly that the wreck had seemed to drop away from him, that he
was swinging up through the water--and just as the water seemed to be
growing lighter, everything went black before his eyes, there was a rush
of stars, and he knew no more.
Up above on the landing, Bob was pulling away desperately, with fear in
his heart. At one side lay the figure of Jerry, still in diving dress
but with helmet removed. The old quartermaster lay very still and white,
but Bob had no chance to work over him. When Mart's line had parted and
that terrible shadow had appeared down below, Bob had almost given up.
Then he had leaped into energy, for he knew that now Mart's life
depended on him alone.
He had swiftly cut away Jerry's back-weight and attached it to a line,
which he lowered, swinging it back and forth in the hope that Mart would
see it. The under-water battle had lasted only for two or three minutes,
although it had seemed an age to poor Mart, and now Bob was hauling up
with all his energy. He had seen the dim shadow shoot off, leaving a
great trail of blood, and he knew that Mart must be hard pressed for
air; as he pulled, he prayed that the shark would not return until his
friend was safe.
With a sob of relief, he caught the flicker of the copper helmet in the
water, and finally got the limp form to the surface. Pulling Mart in was
a hard matter, but it was finally accomplished, and Bob fell on the
helmet and unscrewed it with trembling hands. Mart's bloody face and
ghastly pallor struck him with cold fear, but he went to work at once to
drive air into the contracted lungs, hoping against hope.
How long he worked over the unconscious figure he never knew. He shouted
again and again for Ah Sing, and when at length the affrighted Celestial
appeared at the top of the ladder, Bob sent him for some stimulant. Ah
Sing vanished, and a cry of joy broke from Bob's lips, as he saw a faint
color come into Mart's face and ebb out again. Mart was alive!
Bob labored furiously, and when Ah Sing showed up with a bottle of
alcohol, he said nothing but rubbed Mart's face and neck with the fiery
liquid. Presently he was rewarded by a twitch of Mart's eyelids, a
little more color came into the faded cheeks, and then the gray eyes
opened and looked up into his.
"Look out--he's coming!" whispered Mart, his hand going up and clutching
Bob's arm.
"It's all right, old boy," cried Bob, tears running down his cheeks with
the relief that gripped him. "You're safe--take it easy!"
Up above them, Ah Sing burst into a frenzied chattering, then rushed
away, but neither boy noticed him. Mart lay motionless, looking up into
Bob's eyes and slowly feeling strength come back to him as the reviving
air found its way into his lungs.
"I got him, Holly," he gasped weakly. "Did you see him?"
"Sure!" returned Bob. "Keep quiet, now. Don't try to talk. You're not
hurt, are you? Nothing more than the air?"
Mart shook his head. After a moment he managed to sit up with Bob's
assistance, and saw the motionless form of Jerry. Before he could speak,
Bob restrained him.
"I haven't had time to look at him yet, Mart. I--I guess I feel kind o'
weak myself--"
"_Seamew_ ahoy!" came a hail. "Where are you, Bob?"
"By juniper!" gasped Bob, jumping up. "It's dad!"