“That will cool his passion,” said the doctor, smiling. “I’m sorry I did it though, captain,” he said the next minute; “these men are very revengeful.”
“Too late to say that,” cried the captain roughly. “Here, hi! man overboard! Never mind the boat: he swims like a fish.”
This was plain enough, for the Malay was making his way swiftly through the water, and the captain ran aft with a coil of rope to throw to him from the stern.
I ran too, and could see that as the man struck the water in a peculiar fashion, he held his knife open in his hand, and was thinking whether he would use it when the captain threw the rope, the light rings uncoiling as they flew through the air and splashed the water.
“Here, look out!” cried the captain; but the man did not heed, but began to beat the water furiously, uttering a strange gasping cry.
“Look, doctor!” I cried, pointing, and leaning forward.
A low hiss escaped his lips as he, too, saw a dull, indistinct something rising through the transparent sea.
“Yah, hi! Bunyip debble fis!” shouted Jimmy excitedly. “Bite sailor, brown fellow. Hoo. Bite!”
The black gave a snap and a shake of the head, and then taking the long sharp knife the doctor had given him from his belt, he tore off his shirt and, it seemed to me, jumped out of his trousers. Then the sun seemed to flash from his shiny black skin for an instant, and he plunged into the sea.
The exciting incidents of that scene are as plain before me now I write as if they had taken place yesterday. I saw the body of the black strike up a foam of white water, and then glide down in a curve in the sunlit sea, plainly crossing the course of the great fish, which had altered its course on becoming aware of the second splash.