“Now then, here he is! Oh!”
“Murder! Look out!” shouted Edward, ducking down.
There was a tremendous splash, the water being thrown in their faces as Jack and the mate stood up, the one drawing in the fish, the other ready to make a snatch with the gaff-hook, when a great dark object suddenly rose within six feet of the boat, taking the fish in its jaws, curved over, and dived down, waving a great grey and black tail high in the air, and sending the water flying over them as it disappeared with the line running rapidly out.
“Let me come, Mr Jack,” cried the mate; “it’s of no use to let it burn or cut your hands. I’ll show you.”
As he spoke he stooped, took hold of the line a few rings below those which were rapidly gliding over the side, and passed it round the copper rowlock, letting it still run, but at a slower rate, and gradually adding weight, till the boat began to move, when he checked the line entirely by giving it another turn round and holding on.
“Now take hold. You can let him run or make him tow us, whichever you like,” he said to Jack, who seized the line, and stood there feeling as if he were driving in a marine chariot drawn by sea monsters that were quite under his control.
“The line cannot bear such a strain long,” said the mate. “If we had heavy tackle we might haul the brutes alongside, and kill them with a lance or a shot.”
“Let’s try next time,” cried Jack excitedly. “How it is pulling us along.”
“Yes; we are going pretty well,” said the doctor dryly. “I hope the brute won’t turn round and attack us.”
“Not likely, is it?” said Jack with an anxious look. Then quickly, “Well, let it come. You take hold of the boat-hook, Mr Bartlett; you would spear it with that.”