The next few seconds were full of agony for poor Tom. He gazed in all directions for Sam, and for the shark, but neither one nor the other was to be seen.
"He must have caught Sam under the water!" he muttered. "Oh, Sam, what an awful death to die!"
A slight noise at the upper end of the raft disturbed him. He turned swiftly, to see a wet hand glide over the woodwork. He made a leap and clutched the hand, and then Sam's head appeared. He gave a frantic yank, and both lay on the flooring of the raft. Sam was saved.
"The shark!" gasped Tom, when he could speak. "Did it—it—bite you?"
"No, but it grazed my shoulder," answered Sam. "If I had not dived down, I would have lost an arm at the very least."
When they felt able they looked around, but the shark had disappeared.
"That settles it," said Tom. "We must be careful and keep out of this water in the future. If we want to bathe, we will have to build a pool."
During the remainder of the trip to the wreck both were careful not to run the slightest chance of falling overboard.
"Not such a very lovely place to live in, after all," said Tom.
"Snakes on land and sharks in the water, ugh!" And Sam agreed with him.
Once on the wreck it was an easy thing to obtain the dishes and the knives, forks and spoons, and also some other things they thought they might require. They also brought away another gun, loading it up before leaving the ship.