"Fin to port!"
Following Budge's shouted directions, the sloop gave chase. Soon they were near their quarry.
"Swordfish!" breathlessly announced Jim. "And a big one! Put me on top of him, Budge!"
Leaning against the mast-hoop that encircled his waist, he lifted the long lance and poised it for the blow. The tail of the fish was almost under his feet when he launched the harpoon with all his strength.
Unluckily, at just that moment the sloop dipped and met a big sea squarely. Her bowsprit dove under, burying Jim almost breast-deep, spoiling his aim. The dart struck the fish a glancing blow on the side of the shoulder. Off darted their frightened game.
Jim gave a cry of disappointment.
"Too bad! Ten feet, if he was an inch! Well, better luck next time!"
A quarter-hour passed. Budge strained his eyes, but no fin! The breeze was shifting to the northeast. Jim cast a practised eye about the horizon.
"If the wind swings round much farther it'll bring the fog again. See anything, Budge?"
"No—yes! Up to starboard! Right, Throppy! Keep her as she is!"