But this is a sad mistake on his part. In a moment a crafty companion swims up behind him, and tickles him under the chin. As his mouth opens, out drops the coin into his assailant’s hand, from whom it is instantly snatched by some one else; and a regular bear-fight ensues in the water, which splashes up all around them like a fountain-jet, while their shouts and laughter make the air ring.
“Aren’t they afraid of sharks?” ask I of the captain, who has just increased the confusion tenfold by throwing another copper into the very midst of the screaming throng.
“Not they—they make too much row for any shark to come near them. Sharks are mighty easy scared, for all they’re so savage. You’ll never catch ’em coming too near a steamer when she’s goin’—the flappin’ of the screw frightens ’em away. See, there’s two of ’em comin’ along now, and you’ll just see how much the boys’ll care for ’em.”
And, indeed, the sudden uprising of those gaunt black fins, piercing the smooth water as with an unexpected stab, seems to produce no effect whatever upon these fearless urchins, who paddle about as unconcerned the sharks themselves have other business to attend to. A shoal of flying-fish come driving past, glistening like rainbows in the dazzling sunshine as they leap out of the water and fall back again. Instantly one of the “sea-lawyers” dashes at the rear of the column, while the other, wheeling around its front, heads back the fugitives into his comrade’s open jaws; and in this way the two partners contrive to make a very respectable “haul.”
But at this moment the garrison-boat is seen putting off from the shore, with one of the Pasha’s officers in the stern-sheets. At sight of the well-known official flag, our water-babies scatter like wild-fowl, and the next moment all the little black heads are seen bobbing over the shining ripples on their way back to the shore.
[ST. BOTOLPH’S TOWN.]
LONG time ago, there were in England, as well as in many other countries, certain pious men and women who, for their eminent wisdom, charitable works, or lives of purity and usefulness, came to be called Saints.