“No, thank you,” said the lad merrily; “I should be harpooning one of the men.”
“Not unlikely,” said the mate, smiling. “Don’t lift your lances till they are wanted, and then handle them carefully. I don’t say though that I shall strike a fish,” he continued, as he rose in his place and stood ready, with one foot on the side. “Now then, Lenny, overboard with the dummy, and make a good splash. Give it plenty of line, and let it sail by the canoe; then bring it back toward me; and you, my lads, try and give me a chance by backing water gently. Ready?”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“Over she goes then.”
Splash! went the awkward-looking bundle the next moment, and began to float toward the stern of the canoe, beneath which the sharks had lain that morning, but were too far off now to be visible.
“I say, this is exciting, Jack,” cried the doctor, rubbing his hands. “I hope they’ll bite. Pike-fishing’s nothing to it.”
But there was no sign of anything stirring, as the unwieldy bait was allowed to float on between the stern and bow of the canoe; and though Jack watched, holding his breath at times in his excitement, there was not a ripple, and the dummy was dragged back alongside.
“Was it past there you saw them?” said the doctor.
“Yes, past there. Try again, Mr Bartlett.”
“Oh yes, we’ll try till we get one or two,” replied the mate. “Mustn’t go back without something to show.”