"Very close?" demanded Mr. Mole.
"Not further off than—"
"Than that squally cockylorium is from you now, your honour," cried Sam Mason, pointing behind Mole.
The old gentleman looked quickly behind them, and there, paddling about the stern, was a monstrous white shark.
Mr. Mole slid off his seat to the bottom of the boat with wonderful celerity.
"Don't like the look of him?" said young Jack.
"Ho! I'll tackle him presently, but I—I slipped down," said Mr. Mole.
"So I see, sir."
"And I mean to show you some novel sport in the way of shark-fishing," said the old gentleman.
"You?"