“Why,” exclaimed Mr Parkley, eagerly, “he is not ready for the monster, and it is sailing round him. I dare not send down a cartridge, as the brute will not be the only sufferer. Look, look, for heaven’s sake, Dutch! It has seized him.”
Plainly enough to be seen, as Mr Parkley spoke, the shark gave its tail a wave, turned over so that its white breast was like a flash of light in the water, and opening its large jaws it seemed to seize the diver.
At the same moment there was a tug at the signal-cord, and a sharp tug at the life-line, for Dutch gave the word, and Rasp was dragged rapidly to the surface, the shark following, and making a fresh snap at him as he was hoisted on deck.
The second snap divided the tube, which the monster caught across his jaws, but no sooner was Rasp in safety than Mr Parkley threw one of his cartridges at the shark, where it swam now round and round, with only its back fin above the water.
In an instant the creature turned on one side, and the white cartridge was seen to disappear. Then followed a touch of the wire against the hissing battery, there was a deafening report, and the schooner heaved a little over on one side, and the surface of the placid sea was covered with blood-stained fragments which were seized and borne off by a shoal of silvery-looking fish, which seemed attracted to the spot in thousands.
“What did you pull me up for?” roared Rasp, as soon as he was relieved of his helmet.
“To save your life,” was the reply.
“It’s shabby, that’s what it is,” said Rasp angrily. “No one interfered with you, Mr Dutch, when you had your turn.”
“But you signalled to be pulled up.”
“That I didn’t,” growled the old fellow. “It was that brute bit at my helmet. Has he made any marks?”