The mate came down and joined the party in the boat, which pushed off in the direction of the sunken canoe.
“Stop,” cried Jack before they had gone fifty yards.
“What is it?” cried the doctor. “Captain Bradleigh said that he would have a kind of bait made to attract the sharks.”
“Here it is, Mr Jack, sir,” cried Ned from the bows. “I’m sitting on it.”
Curious to see what it was like, Jack went forward, the men laughingly making way for him to pass as they tugged against rather a swift current, for the tide was setting toward the opening in the reef; and the next minute he was examining a nondescript affair made of two ship’s fenders—the great balls of hempen network used to prevent injury to a vessel’s sides when lying in dock or going up to a wharf or pier. These were placed, one inside an old pea-jacket, the other in a pair of oilskin trousers, and all well lashed together so as to have some semblance to the body of a man.
“But a shark will never be stupid enough to bite at that,” said Jack contemptuously.
“Oh yes, he will, sir,” said the black-bearded sailor, grinning. “The cook’s put a bit of salt pork, beef, and old grease inside. They’ll smell that soon enough.”
It was soon put to the proof, for the boat was steered by the mate well beyond the sunken canoe. The men kept near there by clipping their oars, and then Jack and the doctor were each furnished with a lance, and the mate took the harpoon and attached it to the line in the tub.
“Would either of you gentlemen like to have first try?”
“No, no, I want to learn,” said the doctor. “What do you say, Jack?”