“Won’t you come, father?” said Jack suddenly.
“Well—er—no,” said Sir John; “there is hardly room for another in that boat.”
“Then we’ll have a larger,” cried Jack in a decisive tone, speaking as his father had never heard him speak before.
“No, no,” cried Sir John; “don’t alter your plans. But look out there.”
He pointed away from the side of the yacht, and Jack shaded his eyes, for the sun flashed from the surface.
“Fish of some kind,” said the lad eagerly. “Look, Mr Bartlett; what are they—eels?”
“Snakes—sea-snakes,” said the mate quietly; and they stood gazing at a little cluster of eight or ten beautiful mottled creatures lying close to the surface, almost motionless, except that one now and then changed the S-like figure into which it lay by bending and waving its long sinuous body into some other graceful curve, progressing by a slight wavy motion of its tail.
“Proof positive, Jack, that there are sea-snakes,” said Sir John.
“We shall have to look out,” said the doctor, laughing. “Perhaps these are the babies, and papa and mamma not far off.”
“Hallo! what have you got there?” said the captain, coming up. “Snakes, eh? Plenty of them to be found.”