The first thing that Mat did was to pile up rocks under his brother, by this means getting him into a more restful position, he then wedged stones into the jaws of the fish, hoping thus to take some of the frightful pressure off the foot, and, bidding Tim be of good cheer, started for the shore, returning presently with a heavy, waterlogged piece of wreckage, and—
“See here, Tim!” he cried, as he approached him, and triumphantly held up an iron spike, “I knocked this out of the old timber, this’ll do the job.”
The water had now fallen so much that the jaws of the huge shell were well exposed.
First scraping the mud and stones, so as to get down to the base of the fish, Mat placed the heavy spike against the shell, which Tim had graphically enough described as a huge cockle; such, indeed, it exactly resembled, but on a gigantic scale, measuring along the jaws over three feet; he then dealt his piece of iron a heavy blow with the piece of timber, but the iron would not penetrate—flew off at a tangent: recovering it, he proceeded to examine the shell more closely, and for this purpose baled out most of the remaining water with his hands, then inserted the end of the spike at another angle; the next time he essayed he drove the bolt right through the shell up to the hilt; this, however, had no effect upon the clasping powers of the monster, the foot was jammed as tight as ever.
“Oh! for my axe!” said Mat, “but never fear. Now to get the spike out. I’ll kill this devil somehow.”
It seemed a long time before the spike could be released, but at length, succeeding in this, Mat drove it in every direction through the living, leathery substance of the creature itself.
It would not relax.
He then rammed the piece of timber in, and, exerting his full strength, attempted to prise open the shell, he felt that the enemy was slowly opening, when snap went his rotten lever, broken short off.
“It’s too ‘brow’” (brittle), gasped Tim.
Nothing discouraged, Mat set to work with the remaining bit of his stick, but after another hard struggle, and sweating at every pore, he had to sit down a moment to recover; literally a moment, for he had hardly settled himself in a position to catch the breeze, turning towards the open sea for this purpose, when his ear caught the dull moaning of the tide, which had turned!!