Almost without warning, the great bulk swept around and came at him, twisting about so that the gaping mouth could nip him as it swept past. But Mart was ready; every nerve and muscle in his body was tensed up to the highest pitch, and as the shark lunged forward, he swerved sharply back to his shelter.
None too soon, indeed. The gray bulk swept down on him in a great swirl that almost flung him off his feet; as he reeled, catching at the corner of the wreck for support, he saw the rough, mottled skin shoot past hardly a foot away. Mart swiftly jerked up his kris and lunged forward with all his strength.
He felt the keen weapon shear into the brute and jerk him out, but he grimly held to his grip. Something struck him and sent him staggering; then he had pulled the kris free. Barely had he done so when the shark's huge forked tail drove past his head in a lash of foam and blood, and Mart reeled back into his shelter. The sides of the wreck caught his shoulders and kept him upright, fortunately.
He noticed a slight roaring in his ears, and knew that the air was beginning to get bad in his helmet. He pressed his diving dress and forced up some of his remaining supply. Peering out, he could not repress a thrill of exultation—he had won the first round!
Yet it was a strange and awe-inspiring sight that met his gaze. Tingeing the water a dim red, the immense fish was tearing to and fro in wild fury, lashing across the entrance like lightning, drawing the water in swirls and whirlpools that came near to dragging out Mart despite his grip on the wreck. He felt even the old ship tremble beneath the fierce blast of water, while the huge gray shape flashed down and across and up, back and forth, in terrible spasms of rage. But after it trailed that thin stream of red, and Mart exulted.
"By golly, I've got to finish this thing quick!" he thought vaguely, for the roaring in his ears had increased, and it was hard to fill his lungs with the vitiated air. "If I can only settle him, I can cut off these weights and take a chance on shooting up to the top. It'll be a mighty slim chance, but it's all I've got."
Rendered desperate by his fear of suffocation, which was even greater than his fear of the Pirate Shark, he advanced to the edge of the opening with a resolute determination to take any chance that offered. Nor was it slow in coming.
Down swept the shark with a rush, flicking in its tail as it passed, and Mart leaped back only just in time to avoid it. But he saw the brute's purpose now—to try to suck him out with the swirls of water, or to strike him over with its tail, and as he eyed the dim gray shape that was circling around for another rush, he made ready. He must strike as the huge body flicked past—and he must leap back before the tail could get to the opening!
That meant only one thing. He would have no chance to pull out his kris this time. Everything would depend on the one sure stroke, which must be a death-wound. If not, the kris would be carried off in the shark's body, and with his little sheath knife alone left him, he would be helpless.
"Got to do it!" he thought dully, for now his ears were paining, and he began to feel as if his nose were about to bleed. He was gasping for air, and forcing up newer air from about his legs and body only relieved him slightly. "Got to do it this time, or lose out!"