Ned raised the keen little axe. Resting one hand on the gunwale he leaned forward, and, with all his strength sent the blade into the head of the big fish. It was buried almost to the handle.
There was one wild, convulsive lashing of the tail, one final tremendous effort on the part of the shark to break away. Then, with a quiver, which almost shook loose the hold of Sam and the boys, the big fish was helpless.
“There!” remarked the sailor, with a sigh of relief, “that was a fine catch, and a bigger one than I counted on. He put up a good fight.”
“How big is he?” asked Jerry, as he wrapped his handkerchief around his hand where the rope had cut it.
“Seven feet if he’s an inch,” replied Sam. “Folks’ll pay money to see him.”
“Looks as if some were coming now,” put in Bob.
They all glanced toward shore, as they were now opposite Harmon Beach, and from the summer resort a number of boats were putting off, headed for the Dartaway.
“Wonder what’s up?” said Jerry.
Sam was engaged in putting a line about the shark’s tail, by means of a boat hook, in order to secure his prize, as the barb might pull from the jaw. On his direction the boys also put a cable about the fish’s gills, and the two lines were fastened to a cleat at the stern of the craft.
“Now we’ll head for shore,” said the sailor.