“Like a chance to catch one uv them bastes, Mishther Riddy?” asked Tim
Muldoon, the Irish quarter-master of the _Sea Gypsy_, who paused near
where the boys were standing watching a mighty commotion in the water
made by two great tiger sharks fighting desperately over a piece of
spoiled pork that had been thrown overboard.
“What would we do with it when we had it?” asked Jack with a smile.
“Shure there’s a certain part of the cratirs that makes illigint ateing.
Meself and several other la-ads in ther crew wouldn’t have iny
objictions at all, at all to a bit of shar-ark steak if so be y’u’d
loike to hook one.”
“What do you say, Billy?” asked Jack.
“That it would be good fun. But what sort of a rig do you use? No use
taking an eight-ounce rod and a dry fly or a hand line to those
fellows.”
“Shure oi’ve got a foine shar-ark hook up forward. I’ll go git it fer
yez,” declared Muldoon, hurrying off.
He was back before long with a hook that looked like one of those used
by butchers on which to hang whole carcasses. Attached to this was a
length of steel chain with a swivel, and above a stout rope some hundred
feet in length. Billy Raynor went below to the cook’s quarters and soon
came back with a big chunk of pork which was stuck on the hook.
“How’ll we haul him out if we do get one?” Billy wanted to know, as the
bait struck the water with a splash.
“Just give a holler and I’ll git some uv ther byes uv ther crew to lind
yez a hand,” declared Muldoon. “Sure 'tis foine spor-rot ye’ll be hivin’
intirely—wow! murtha! Watch yersilf Misther Raynor!”
There had come a sudden vicious rush of one of the sea-monsters at the
hook. Turning its hideous jaws upward, the ravenous creature had
literally swallowed “hook, line and sinker.” It happened that at that
precise moment Billy alone had hold of the rope.
As the shark’s jaws gripped the hook and its sharp point sunk into his
flesh, the creature made a mighty rush. It caught Billy unprepared as he
stood by the rail, a section of which had been removed while the crew
polished the brass work.
Before he realised what was happening a coil of the rope entangled his
legs. Like a bullet from a gun, he was whisked off the deck and through
the air into the sea, which Jack knew was alive with sharks. It had all
happened so suddenly that the last of Muldoon’s alarmed cries had not
left his lips before poor Billy was towed away from the ship by the
maddened shark, unable to make a move to extricate himself. He was
barely able to breathe, in fact, being half submerged.
Paralyzed for an instant, Jack regained his faculties with an effort.
Captain Sparhawk, who had seen the whole affair, was the first to take
definite action, however. He issued an order for a boat to be lowered at
once and then dashed into his cabin for a pistol.
“Hurry, Sparhawk, for Heaven’s sake,” urged Mr. Jukes, who had also been
a witness of the accident. “The poor lad will be drowned or eaten alive
by the other sharks if we don’t act promptly.”
But the captain was already out of earshot. Muldoon and two other
sailors were at the oars of the boat as he tumbled into it, followed by
Jack, who, in his haste, did not stop to ask permission to come.
Luckily, the shark, instead of taking a straight course out to sea, was
dashing round and round in circles. This gave them a chance to save
Billy’s life, for had the great fish pursued a straight course, Raynor’s
fate would undoubtedly have been sealed.
“Row for your lives, men,” urged the captain, standing erect, pistol in
hand, awaiting the first opportunity for a shot at the shark.
“Shure thare’s no nade to till us thot, captain, dear,” cried Muldoon.
“We’ll git the poor lad if we have to pull our own heads off.”
The shark now made a swift dash for the bow of the _Sea Gypsy_. Behind
him, at a distance of about seventy-five feet, poor Billy’s body could
be seen being rushed through the water with a “wake” behind it like that
of a fast steamer. Jack could see his chum’s face, which was ashen
white. But from the glimpse he had of it, the young wireless man was
sure that Billy was still alive, marvelous though that seemed. For half
the time, owing to the manner in which he was attached to the shark, the
unfortunate lad’s head was under the surface of the water.
Bang! Captain Sparhawk’s pistol spoke as the shark crossed the bow of
the boat which had been instantly turned to follow the creature’s new
tactics.
“Missed,” he groaned.
“No,” cried Jack, an instant later. “See, the water is red behind him!
You hit him.”
“Yes, but I fear not mortally. These creatures have an amazing grip on
life,” was the despondent reply.
And now a fresh element entered into the scene. Round the bow of the
yacht, toward which the shark, with its human burden, was dashing, there
suddenly appeared a long, slender canoe with two lithe young native
figures propelling it. It was Anai and his friend, the sworn allies of
the boys.
For an instant, as the extraordinary scene presented itself to them,
they stood like bronze figures. Then the full meaning of the impending
tragedy appeared to strike them. With a simultaneous cry each grasped
his great iron-wood knife and without the slightest hesitation leaped
overboard.
“They are going to save him!” cried Jack exultingly, as the two Kanaka
boys fearlessly clove the shark-infested water to attack the monster
that had abducted Billy.
“And lose their own lives,” exclaimed the captain as several dark fins
appeared in the water about the two intrepid youths.