“But you don’t think they were sea serpents?” said Jack, whose face looked a little sallow.
“Oh no,” said the mate. “Sharks without doubt. Look here, the twisted wire is regularly cut through, as if by a pair of shears,” he continued, as he held up the end of the line he had drawn in. “How is yours?”
“Haven’t got the end yet,” said the doctor, who was hauling away. “Here we are,” he cried; “mine’s broken where the snood joins on. What’s to be done now?”
“Put on fresh baits,” said Jack sharply; and Edward reached for the basket.
The mate and the doctor exchanged glances. “Very well,” said the latter; “but I expect it only means another fight like the last. Eh, Bartlett?”
“I’m afraid so. The sharks are evidently following this great shoal to pick up a helpless one now and then.”
“But it’s so disappointing,” said Jack. “I wanted to see what we had caught, and take them aboard for dinner.”
“Yes, it’s disappointing,” said the doctor. “What do you think they were that we had hold of—there in the shoal?”
“They look to me like some kind of sea perch,” said the mate, “something like the bass one gets down in Cornwall.”
“Seem like it from their playing about,” said the doctor, and drawing the basket toward him, he proceeded to fit on another artificial bait. “I’ll try and stir them up again with the spoon,” he said, with a droll look at Jack.