That same afternoon the two boys and their tutor were on deck.
There was scarcely a breath of wind on the ocean, the sails were hanging loosely from the spars as the vessel rose and fell upon the swelling waves.
"What a country this is for sharks!" exclaimed Mr. Mole, who was seated on the low bulwarks of the weather quarter, enjoying what little air there was, and carefully unloading his pocket pistol.
"Beg pardon, Mr. Mole," said Harry, "but what is the name of this particular country?"
Mole frowned horribly.
"You are a very impudent boy."
"No, sir, only a youth of an inquiring turn of mind. What is the chief city of this country?"
"I never answer absurd questions."
Mr. Mole took another suck at the pistol (i.e. flask), and then his countenance relaxed.
"It is a place for sharks, though," he said; "only look at that great fellow down here."