All hands obeyed on the instant, and presently the boy was delighted beyond measure to see the fine big fish come tumbling inboard one after the other in quick succession. It was indeed a stirring scene, although from a sporting point of view it savoured too much of business, perhaps. These were not sportsmen though; they only fished to satisfy their bodily needs, having no idea of making game of taking life, their savage instincts having been entirely modified by their practical working belief in the loving Father.
They were in the height of their fishing, the boats being half full of spoil, when Philip, who had a very large fish on his line, turned to see how his son was faring with another big fellow, and as he did so, his foot slipped upon some slime in the sternsheets and he fell backwards, striking his side upon the boat’s gunwale and falling overboard. A great shout of laughter went up from all the boat’s crew except C. B., for with these amphibious islanders to fall overboard was just a bit of good fun. But C. B., craning over the side, saw that his father, instead of coming to the surface again like a cork, was still far below, and at the same instant he noticed an awful black shadow gliding swiftly in the direction of the still sinking man. Without a moment’s hesitation he dived, feeling at the same moment for the knife in his belt, a long keen-bladed weapon which all carried while fishing.
Downward he sped through the clear water, arriving by the side of his father’s quietly undulating body just as a great glare of white showed the belly of a sixteen-foot shark as he turned to bite at this big piece of food. In a moment the boy had snatched his knife from his belt, and with one tremendous spring sideways had plunged it deep into the belly of the monster, and then with a strength that amazed himself sawed it lengthways along the great body. The water grew thick with blood, he groped blindly for the body of his father, felt nothing, swam gropingly about until almost bursting from lack of air, and then with a feeling of utter despair shot upwards to the surface.
One deep painful breath and, clearing his eyes, C. B. stared wildly about him. Then he gave one despairing cry of “Father!” It was answered by a dozen different voices cheerfully crying, “All right, all right,” and in a moment or two he found two stalwart swimmers by his side ready to aid him if he needed help, and keeping up an incessant splashing in the water for the purpose of scaring the sharks. Guided by them he swam to the boat, and just as he snatched at the gunwale to climb inboard two huge sharks rushed towards the little group of three from opposite directions, meeting head on in full career with such a tremendous shock that they both sank quietly down apparently stunned, while the three friends climbed safely into the boat.
And there lay his father, still and pale as his bronzed face would show, but, God be praised, yet alive. C. B.’s first impulse was to fling himself down by his father’s side and burst into an agony of weeping, for he thought that the dear one was dead; but, without a restraining hand being laid upon him, he conquered himself and, trembling violently, said, “Is father much hurt?”
“We don’t know yet,” replied Walter McCoy, “but, thank God, he’s still alive, and I can’t imagine such a man as he is being killed by what he’s just gone through. But we’re getting ashore with all speed, and if you will take an oar it’ll help you a lot: you’ll know you’re doing something for him that must be done and that with all your might: Give way, boys; we want to get home quick.”
C. B. instantly seized an oar and laid to it with a will, as did all the rest, full of anxiety as they were to get their much-loved comrade home. So in a very brief space they made a landing, and were met on the beach by Grace, who with love’s intuition, had felt that something had happened which needed her presence. When she saw the still limp form of her love, she only turned a shade paler and felt her knees tremble. Then quietly, as if inviting a few of them up to supper, said, “Please, friends, bring him gently along to the house where I can attend to him properly.”
Then turning to her boy she kissed him, having noted his working face, saying, “Don’t worry, dear; he’s in our Father’s hands and all will be right.”
But C. B., boy-like, could no longer restrain himself, and bursting into a very tempest of tears, sobbed out, “I tried to save him, mother, indeed I did.”
“Ay, that he did; no man could have done more than this boy, Grace,” said the nearest men in unison. And as they followed the bearers of Philip across the fragrant fields to the house, Grace heard with a swelling heart of the noble deed whereby her first-born had proved his manhood, and managed to find room in her stricken heart for pride that she had been permitted to rear such a noble son. Then dismissing the whole heroic deed from her mind for the time she hastened her steps, intent upon preparing a comfortable bed for her suffering husband. It was an ordeal through which she had never before passed, but she rose to the occasion, and when the bearers arrived she faced them calmly, and directed them where to lay him.