THE WARNING RATTLE.
Jack Stormways was a quick-witted lad. He had proved this fact on
numerous occasions in the past, within the memory of his chums.
When anything sudden happened, while others might appear to be
spellbound, and waste precious seconds in staring, Jack was very
apt to be on the jump, and _doing_.
So in the present instance, while it might appear more or less comical,
seeing the fat boy crouched in that silly little boat belonging to the
_Wireless_, and being dragged through the water at a most rapid rate by
the shark he had hooked, there was always an element of danger connected
with the affair.
And so Jack, after taking that one look out over the water, sprang
forward, and started dragging his anchor aboard with all possible speed.
That done, he next applied himself to getting power on the boat, which
fortunately could be done with a simple turning over of the engine.
"Hello! are you going to chase the runaway with the _Tramp_?" cried
Herb, who was in the act of climbing over the side into his tender, as
though meaning to put out in pursuit himself.
"Yes; jump aboard here, Herb; I might need help!" came the answer; and,
accustomed to respecting Jack's judgment, the one addressed managed to
clamber over the side of the _Tramp_ just as that craft started off.
Meanwhile Nick was going at a great rate, not in a direct line for the
inlet, but following jerky, eccentric angles, as though the shark hardly
knew what to do, on feeling the contact with the point of the big hook
at the end of the chain.
Several times the fat boy seemed on the point of creeping forward to get
at the rope that was fastened to a cleat in the bow of the dinky. It was
George who roared at him on such occasions.
"Keep still, Nick; sit down, can't you? You'll upset sure, if you don't
lie flat! Jack's coming out after you on the jump! Hey, look out there,
Jimmy, or you'll get foul, too! Whew! what a race horse you've got fast
to, Nick. If only you could land him, Jimmy's name would be Mud. There
he goes again, heading for the bar! Look at the water shooting up on
either side of that dandy little boat, would you? And ain't Nick having
the ride of his life, though? There he goes, crawling along up to the
bow again. Perhaps he wants to cut loose; small blame to him if he
does!"
Everybody was either laughing, or shouting advice to Nick, while this
exciting little drama was taking place.
Indeed, Nick himself seemed to be the only one who was not getting some
measure of fun out of the affair. His usually red face looked pale, as
he managed to reach the squatty bow of the little boat. But when he
found that it was dragged down by the action of the fish, as well as his
own weight, he drew back again in alarm, for water had come rushing
aboard.
Once the motor boat got started, of course it speedily came up with the
runaway. Jack had given the wheel into the charge of Herb, who was fully
competent to run things. This allowed the other an opportunity to do
anything that offered, looking to the rescue of poor frightened Nick.
"Get me out of this, won't you, Jack? I don't like it one little bit,"
pleaded the fat boy; and then, as some new freak on the part of the
shark caused the dinky to lunge sideways in a fearful manner, he shouted
in new alarm: "Quit it, you ugly beast! Who wants to nab you now? I
pass, I tell you! Let go, and get out of this! Wow! look at him splash
the water, Jack, would you?"
"He wanted to take a look at you, that's all," Jack called out. "Don't
you think you'd better cut loose, and let your hook go, Nick?"
"I ain't got any knife; it went overboard the first thing. Besides,"
added the occupant of the dinky, who was now once more crouching in the
stern, "if I go up there, the water just pours in. I'm sitting in it
right now. Jack, can't you think of some way to make him leave me
alone?"
"Perhaps I might," came the reply, as the skipper of the _Tramp_ dodged
back into the hunting cabin of his boat.
He almost immediately reappeared again, holding a rope in his hands.
This he made fast to a cleat at the bow; and then, turning to Herb,
asked him to bring the motor boat as close to the fleeing dinky as
possible.
Leaning down, Jack managed to get a peculiar sort of hitch around the
taut line; and a quick jerk seemed to secure his own rope, so that it
would not slip. His next action was to take a keen knife, and lay its
edge upon the line, close to the spot where it was fastened to the
wobbling dinky.
Of course it instantly parted.
"Oh! that's too bad! Now I've lost my tackle!" cried Nick; although he
looked vastly relieved at finding that he was no longer fast to the
queer sea horse.
Jack paid no further attention to the rescued chum. The fight was now to
be all between himself and the shark.
Quickly the line paid out, until there came a heavy jerk, and then once
more it became taut.
"Bully! it's holding fine, Jack!" shouted Herb, who had watched to see
the result; for he doubted whether the connection, brought about under
such difficulties, would be maintained.
"Now, gradually bring the boat to a full stop," said Jack, as he again
reached back into the cabin, and drew out a rifle. "As soon as you've
got him halted, begin to back up. That will drag him to the top, you
understand; and I'll have a chance to pot the rascal."
"That's right," declared Herb, who could grasp a thing readily enough,
even if slow to originate clever schemes himself.
Just as Jack had said, when the pull was being exerted in the other
direction, the struggling monster was presently seen splashing at a
tremendous rate, though unable to resist the drawing powers of the
ten-horsepower engine.
Jack, crouching there, with one elbow resting on his knee, took as good
an aim as the conditions allowed. Then came the sharp report of the
gun.
"Whoop! you hit him all right, that time, Jack!" shouted Herb; as there
ensued a tremendous floundering at the end of the rope. "But he ain't
knocked out yet. Give him another dose of the same sort!"
Across the water came the cries of the others who were watching this
exciting scene. And loudest of all could be heard the voice of Nick, now
once more in possession of his nerve.
"Give it to him, Jack! Pound the measly old pirate good and hard! He
won't try that game again in a hurry, I tell you! Hey! Jimmy, you ain't
in it this time, with that little minnow of yours. Hurrah! that's the
time you poked him in the slats, Jack! Trust you for knowing how! I
guess he's a sure goner after that meal of cold lead."
Jack had fired a second time; and, just as the wildly excited Nick said,
he seemed to have met with better success than on the former occasion.
The trapped sea monster threshed the water still, but not in the same
violent manner as before; and his fury seemed to be rapidly diminishing
as the result of his wounds began to be felt.
"Now, stop her, Herb, and start ahead slowly!" Jack called out, hovering
over the spot where the line was fast to the cleat.
The boy at the wheel did as he was directed; and as the line became
slack Jack took it in, ready to hastily secure the same about another
cleat in case the dying shark developed a disposition to make a last mad
dash.
But evidently the big fish was "all in," and when they reached a point
nearly over where he lay, there were seen only a few spasmodic movements
to his body.
"Let's drag him near the other boats, so we can pull the old fellow up
on that little beach," Jack suggested.
Ten minutes later, and the six boys were all ashore, laying hold of the
rope in order to drag the captured fish out.
"Say, he's some whopper, let me tell you!" exclaimed George, as, having
drawn the shark high and dry, they all hastened to examine the capture.
Nick was dancing with joy, and his eyes fairly beamed as he stood beside
the great bulk, putting one foot up on it after the manner in which he
had seen noted hunters do, in pictures that told of their exploits when
hunting big game.
"Now, how about it, Jimmy?" he demanded, as Jack was cutting the stout
hook from the jaw of the monster. "Think this is some punkins, don't
you, now. Three hundred pounds, if it weighs an ounce. Have to hustle
some, let me tell you, my boy, if you ever expect to go a notch higher
than this."
"Arrah, come off, would you!" indignantly cried Jimmy. "Sure, ye
wouldn't be claiming that ye took this same ould sea wolf, and inter it
in the competition. I do be laving it to Jack here, if that's fair?"
"But I hooked it, you all saw that?" expostulated Nick.
"I don't know," remarked Herb, looking very serious; "I was under
the impression that the shark had got you, up to the time Jack came
along with his little gun, and tapped him on the head. How about it,
Commodore? Can Nick enter any claim to having caught this prize?"
"Wait," said Jack, smiling; "let me read out the exact words of the
wager. I've got a copy right here in my note book. Listen now, both of
you. It reads like this: 'Each contestant shall have the liberty of
fishing as often as he pleases, and the fish may be taken in any sort of
manner; the one stipulation being that the capture shall be undertaken
by the contestant, _alone and unaided_; and that he must have possession
of the fish long enough to show the same, and have its weight either
estimated or proven.'"
"That settles your goose, me bhoy!" croaked Jimmy, gleefully; "and I'm
top notch in the game up to the prisent moment. Do we get busy again,
Nick, I say; or are ye satisfied to lit me claim first blood?"
"Well, it seems mighty small, that after grabbing that nice fellow, I've
got to let the honors go for the day," remarked the fat boy. "And I
guess I've had quite enough excitement for once. I'm all soaked in the
bargain; and it feels kind of cool, you see. So I won't fish any more
right now. But next time, just you look out for yourself, Jimmy. I'm
after you like hot cakes. Say, ain't we going to have that fish for
supper, boys?"
Nick was a voracious eater. He liked nothing in the world so much as to
enjoy a glorious meal; and long after his chums were through, he often
sat there, finishing the dishes. On the other hand, lean, lanky Josh,
while possessed of a knack for cooking all sorts of good things, had a
poor appetite, and often merely nibbled at his food, to the wonderment
and disgust of the fat boy.
"If you get to work and clean it," said Jack, "I think there ought to be
plenty to go around. But you'll find that one-third of a channel bass
is the head. As we had one before, we know it's worth eating, so pitch
in, Nick. Since you lost your knife overboard, take mine here, and get
busy."
It pleased Jimmy to strut around near where his rival was occupied
with his menial task, and make occasional remarks about "his prize,"
calculated to rub salt in Nick's wounds. But after all, the fat boy was
good-natured, and took things in a matter-of-fact way. Besides, he was
grimly resolved that sooner or later, by hook or by crook, even if it
were a fish-hook, he would overcome this strong lead of his rival in the
race for high honors.
As more or less fuel had been found ashore, and Josh expressed his
desire to manage the supper, as head chef, it was found advisable to
change their plans. And so, assisted by many willing workers, the lanky
wonder started operations.
He was soon bustling around, looking very consequential. Nick had
made him a _chef's_ cap out of a piece of white muslin, which he was
requested to wear on all such occasions as this, when in charge of
affairs about the cooking fire.
Nick himself was busy trying to mend some little contraption, purchased
on the street in Jacksonville, and which he had broken before he could
have any fun with the same as originally intended.
Jack, stepping off from the _Tramp_, where he had gone to get some of
the tinware needed for coffee and substantial food, was electrified to
hear Josh give a whoop; and at the same instant his ears were assailed
by a dreadful rattling noise that sounded for all the world like the
angry buzz of a diamond-back rattlesnake.
"Thunder and Mars! Great Jerusalem! I'm struck in the leg!" bellowed the
lengthy Josh, as he came tumbling back from the edge of the bushes,
grabbing at his shin in a frantic manner.