Jim allotted the company their several stations.
"Budge, you swarm up to that seat on the gaff and watch out for fins! Throppy, you steer as Budge tells you! Stand by to take the dory, Perce, and go after any fish I'm lucky enough to iron. Filippo, be ready to throw that buoy and coil of warp off the starboard bow the minute I make a strike. I'll get out in the pulpit with the harpoon. Keep alive, everybody! We're liable to run across something any minute."
Perched aloft, Budge scanned the tossing, glittering sea. His keen eye detected a triangular, black membrane steering leisurely through the waves a hundred yards ahead.
"Fin on the starboard bow! Keep her off, Throppy!"
In a short time the Barracouta was close behind the unconscious fish.
From the bowsprit end burst a shout of disgust:
"No good! I can see him plain! Tail's too limber! Only a shark! Swing her off, Throppy!"
"How can I tell a shark from a swordfish?" Budge called down to Jim.
"Shark's back fin is shorter and broader, and he keeps his tail-fluke whacking from side to side. Swordfish has two steady fins, stiff as shingles; front one is long and slender and curves back on a crook; the after one is the upper tail-fluke. Try again!"
Five minutes passed. Then an excited yell: