“No, no,” I cried. “I must have a try now.”
“Let him be,” growled the captain; “nobody couldn’t have lanced him if he’d tried. Now look out, lad! Steady, boys! In oars! Let’s go up more softly. That’s the style. We shall have him this time. Now you have him, lad; give it him—deep.”
All these words came in a low tone of voice as the boat glided nearer and nearer to where the shark was swimming slowly and wavering to and fro, and in my excitement I drew back, raising the lance high, and just as the monster was about to dash off in a fresh direction I threw myself forward, driving the point of the lance right into the soft flesh, forgetful of my instructions about a sharp thrust and return, for the keen lance point must have gone right through, and before I realised what was the matter I was snatched out of the boat; there was a splash, the noise of water thundering, a strangling sensation in my nostrils and throat, and I was being carried down with a fierce rush into the depths of the sea.
Chapter Four.
How I was not drowned, and how we chased that Schooner.
I don’t remember much about that dive, except that the water made a great deal of noise in my ears, for the next thing that occurred seemed to be that I was lying on my back, with the back of my neck aching, while the doctor was pumping my arms up and down in a remarkably curious manner.
“What’s the matter?” I said quickly; and then again in a sharp angry voice, “Be quiet, will you? Don’t!”
“Are you better, young ’un?” said the captain, who seemed to be swollen and clumsy looking.