In fact they were able to get in some slack now. They pulled and pulled, until it seemed that they must have gotten up enough line to reach to the bottom of the ocean. Still nothing showed. But there was always that dead weight at the end of the small cable.
“Look out for trouble when he gets near the surface,” panted Sam. “Ned, can’t you lash the wheel and come back here with the hatchet? We’ll need you.”
Ned fastened the wheel so as to keep the boat in a straight course, and, wondering what part he was going to play, picked up a long-handled hatchet Sam had brought along and went to the stern.
His chums and the sailor were still hauling on the line, their hands and arms aching from the strain. Foot after foot was pulled aboard until Sam exclaimed:
“We’ll have him up in a few seconds!”
Hardly had he spoken when there was a commotion near the surface of the ocean, about ten feet from the stern of the boat. The water was lashed into foam, and in the midst of the swirling eddies could be seen the tip of a big tail, and the triangular shaped, dorsal fin of the shark.
“There he is!” yelled Sam. “He’s a big one!”
It seemed as though they had hooked on to a small whirlwind beneath the water, or a miniature torpedo that was in full flight around in a circle. The big fish, in its efforts to get rid of the hook, and escape that relentless pulling, was fighting with all its savage strength. With fins and tail it sought to get away.
“Pull! Pull!” cried Sam. “Ned, stand ready with the hatchet, and clip him on the head when you get a show!”
Closer and closer to the boat they pulled the shark. They could almost grasp the chain part of the line now. Then, above the water, was thrust the ugly head of the fish. While it was not a man-eater, or as large as the shark of the tropical seas, being in fact only an immense dog fish, the creature was so ugly and horrible, with its under-shot mouth, and unblinking eyes, that Jerry and Bob were almost inclined to let go.