As he passed them up the captain threw them to the hungry sharks, each piece being snapped up by one or the other, as the monsters, not disdaining such morsels, turned half over and gorged each fragment as it fell.
No less than seven could now be counted, all evidently made more savage and eager by the taste of meat, and ready to leap out of the water as they glided one over the other in a space not many yards square, where the water was still impregnated with the odour and juices of the beef.
“That will do for them now,” cried Mr Parkley, mounting beside the captain with the lump of beef bound round the can in his lingers, holding it in one hand, whilst with the other he took a good grip of one of the rattlins.
“Are you ready, Pugh?”
“Yes,” was the reply.
“Is the wire all clear for a run?”
“Yes, perfectly. Stand back, man,” cried Dutch, as the mulatto stood eagerly watching what was done.
“Then I shall throw it into the midst of them, and when I cry now, make the connection—not before.”
“I understand,” said Dutch.
“One moment,” said the captain; “will it endanger the ship?”