He was too late, for the captain’s piece was already at his shoulder, and as he drew trigger the charge struck the serpent about a third of its length from the head, making it heave up out of the water, while a convulsion ran through it, and then it lay motionless upon the surface.
“Dead!” cried Mark excitedly; and he made a dash to check Bruff, but too late, for the dog plunged over the side and swam towards the serpent.
“Stop him, Billy!” cried Mark; and the little sailor, who had laid in his oar and stood ready with the boat-hook, made a snatch at the dog’s collar, but did not succeed in gaffing him, and Bruff swam on.
“It’s dead, Mark,” said the captain; and then, more quickly than it takes to describe it, Bruff made a snatch at the nearest portion of the snake—its tail—caught it in his teeth, and was in the act of turning to drag it after him back to the boat, when there was a rush in the water, the creature heaved itself up, and quick as lightning threw itself round the dog, and they saw its head raised and darted down at the dog’s neck.
Instantaneously as it had constricted poor Bruff, it untwined itself as rapidly; and as in his wonder and alarm Bruff uttered a furious bark, he unloosed his hold upon the slimy creature’s tail, before he could recover from his surprise and make a fresh attempt at seizure the serpent had dived and was gone.
“Did you see the snake strike him?” said the captain.
“Yes; and they are terribly poisonous.”
“Said to be,” said the captain, “but I never knew anyone bitten.”
“I have,” said the mate in a low voice, “two cases; and both people died.”
“Call the dog on board,” said the captain; and in obedience to his master’s call the dog swam alongside and was hauled in, to stand barking with his paws resting on the bows after his regular shake.