“Not he. Gone to get rid of that thing sticking in his head. No; got rid of it directly. Lucky for him. I dare say if it had stopped there his beloved brothers and sisters would have been at him for a cannibal feast.”
For about twenty yards away the handle of the boat-hook suddenly shot above the surface, and floated, bobbing gently up and down like a huge quill float, the metal on the end weighting it sufficiently to keep it nearly upright.
A touch or two with the oars sent the dinghy within reach, and the boat-hook was recovered, but with its gun-metal head a good deal bent.
“Got a good strong skull,” said the captain, holding the end for Jack to see. “Look under the canoe now.”
Jack glanced over the side, and there was not a shark to be seen as the agitated water grew calm again; but even as he looked, first one and then another shadowy object reappeared, until five had resumed their places, waiting for the dead that might float out of the canoe, but in this case waiting in vain.
“The horrible wretches!” said Jack.
“It’s their nature, sir. They are the scavengers of the sea in their way, just as the crocodiles are of the great rivers.—Row back, Lenny.—There is your father on the deck.”
“And Doctor Instow too,” said Jack.
“Here, I say,” cried the doctor, “play fair. Don’t have all the adventures to yourselves. Been harpooning fish? Ugh!” he continued. “Sharks. I should like a turn at them.”
Over the breakfast the position was discussed.