The Shot from the Rocks.
THE other shark, taking alarm, darted away at once.
“That’s a trophy we must secure!” exclaimed Reube. “You don’t have a
chance to shoot a shark every day.”
Will was already noosing a couple of ropes. The _Dido_ was brought
alongside the rolling carcass, and after a great deal of difficulty the
nooses were made fast to its head and tail. In the effort to hoist the
heavy mass aboard the boat was nearly swamped; and at one time Will
offered to give up the job. But Reube generously insisted on continuing.
At last, by waiting till a wave rolled boat and carcass, together in
just the most propitious way possible, the thing was accomplished with a
sudden hoist. Along with the great fish a barrel or two of water came
aboard; and while Reube steered, Will was kept busy for a half hour
bailing the boat out.
This accomplished, Will discovered that the hot sun, the excitement, or
possibly the motion of the boat, had given him a violent headache.
“O, it’s all very well, but you know you’re seasick,” gibed Reube, as he
sat at the helm.
“Maybe so,” assented Will, undisturbed at the imputation. “Anyway, I’m
going to lie down here under the shade of the mainsail to sleep it off.
Even if I snore don’t wake me, as you value your life!”
With the aid of a blanket he made himself comfortable, and in a few
minutes was sound asleep. Steering the _Dido_ and watching the shores
slip by, and building plans for the coming year, Reube was well content.
The wind, after having almost died away, had shifted a few points and
was blowing gently but steadily. With this wind on her beam the _Dido_
sailed fast, heeling smoothly, and sending the waves past her gunwale
with a pleasant murmur. Reube took little account of time just now. Life
seemed a very attractive dream, and he was unwilling even to stir. But
his hand on the tiller was firm, and there was no smallest danger of him
dropping to sleep.
This lotus-eating mood, with a few intervals, must have lasted four or
five hours. The tide had turned and been a good three hours on the ebb.
At last he observed vaguely that he was just off the promontory where he
and Will had been caught in the cave. Thinking of the dangers of the
locality, he steered a point or two further out to give the sunken reefs
a wide berth. As he did so he noticed that the tide was out as far as
the foot of the bluff, and that the cove flats were all uncovered. He
was fairly past the point when out of the tail of his eye he caught a
movement among the rocks just where the cave mouth lay. Turning his head
quickly, he saw Mart Gandy step forward and raise his great duck gun to
his shoulder.
The distance was scarcely fifty yards, and Gandy was a first-rate shot.
There was no time to think. Like a flash Reube dropped forward upon the
bottom of the boat, letting the tiller swing free. At the same instant
there was a loud, roaring report from the big duck gun, and the heavy
charge of buckshot, passing just over the gunwale, tore a black hole in
the sail.
Reube had fallen just in time. He picked himself up again at once,
recaptured the tiller, and tried to put the _Dido_ before the wind in
the hope of getting out of range ere Gandy could load up for another
shot. But the boat was pointing straight for the shore, and came round
very slowly. Ere Reube could get her on a new course Will appeared from
behind the sail, astonished at the noise and the confusion.
He took in the situation at once. Gandy, who was reloading in fierce
haste, stopped for a moment with paling face at Will’s unexpected
appearance. He had evidently been under the impression that Reube was
alone, or doubtless he would not have committed himself by such an
attack. Then he made up his mind that he would see the thing through.
Flinging down his powder horn, he rammed home the wadding fiercely, and
reached for the heavy shot pouch at his side.
“To shore, Reube! Straight ashore with her!” said Will, in a low,
intense voice.
Reube obeyed instantly, seeing that his former intention had been a
mistake. Mart Gandy wadded home the buckshot in his great gun barrel.
The charge was a terrific one. Will stooped, like a wild-cat crouching
for a spring. The _Dido_ rushed straight on, and both Reube and Will
declared afterward that they knew just what it was like to charge a
battery.
As Will’s keen eye saw Gandy’s finger feel for the trigger, he yelled,
“Down! Reube!” and dropped beneath the gunwale. On the instant Reube
fell flat in the stern. The great roar of the duck gun shook the air at
the same moment. But the charge flew wild and high, and a black hole
appeared in the upper part of the sail. The report was followed by a
yell of pain, and the big gun clattered on the rocks. Gandy staggered
back. The breech of the gun had blown out, and a fragment of it had
shattered his arm. In a moment, however, he recovered himself and rushed
desperately at the face of the bluff.
The boys saw at once what had happened.
“We’ve got him now,” said Reube, sternly. His sense of justice quenched
all sense of pity.
“Yes,” remarked Will, “he can’t climb the rocks with that arm; and now
that he can’t fire that clumsy weapon of his, he’s no longer dangerous.
We’ll just take him prisoner!”
Meanwhile the _Dido_ was dashing straight on to the Point, trusting to
Providence that she would strike a soft spot. But with Gandy disabled
there was no need of this desperate haste, so Reube steered for a place
where he knew there was neither reef nor honey pot, but a slope of firm
sand. He was too much occupied in the delicate task of making a safe
landing for the _Dido_ to observe what Gandy was doing. But Will watched
the actions of the latter, with a cold smile on his finely cut mouth.
“He is a coward, every time, when it comes to the pinch!” was his
remark. “See him now, too scared to meet us like a man, and struggling
like a whipped cur to climb those rocks and get away! He can’t do it,
though!”
Indeed, Mart Gandy at this moment realized the fact which gave Will such
satisfaction. With his right arm broken, he could not make his way to
the top of the bluff. Like a hunted animal, he turned and glared with
eyes of hate and fear upon his adversaries. Again he looked at the
rocks, turning his head quickly from side to side. And then, with a
shrill, fierce cry, he darted out straight across the flats toward the
head of the cove.
“He’ll get away after all,” remarked Reube.
“Get away, indeed!” muttered Will. “It’s in the very thick of the honey
pots he’ll be in less than half a minute, or I’m much mistaken. There!”
As he spoke, Gandy was seen to throw himself violently backward. It was
just in time. As he tore himself by a mighty wrench from the engulfing
slime he struggled to his feet, swerved to one side, and ran on.
Reube drew a long breath of relief; and Will said, dispassionately:
“That was well done. It was sharp.”
Just then the _Dido_ ran up on the sand, and stopped with a shock that
would have pitched Will overboard if he had not grasped the mast.
“Now we’ve done it, Reube!” he exclaimed. “We’re aground hard and fast,
just when there’s no longer any need of being here. I fancy we won’t
undertake to follow Mr. Gandy through these honey pots.”
Reube made no direct answer. He was on his feet watching the fugitive,
anxiously.
“Ah-h-h!” he cried, “he’s got it. He’ll never get through that patch of
death traps along there.”
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Gandy seemed to wallow
forward as if the ground had given way beneath him. With a mighty heave
of his body he tried to throw himself backward as he had done before.
But this time he was too late The hungry, greenish-red ooze but lipped
and clung to him more greedily. He flung himself flat, rolled on his
side, and strove to drag one leg free. With the effort his other leg
sank up to the thigh. Then he lifted his face and uttered a shriek of
heart-shaking horror.
Reube and Will sprang out upon the sand, Will grabbing up the boat hook
as he did so. Reube snatched it from his hand.
“Go back,” he cried, “and get a rope, and follow me carefully right in
my tracks. I know this cove and you don’t.”
The next moment he was speeding like the wind to the spot where Gandy
lay writhing in that inexorable grasp.