“Who?” cried Mark excitedly; “a savage?”
“Yes, sir,” said Billy, grinning and holding Bruff, “savage enough. Nay, nay, my lad, you lie down. It wouldn’t do you no good to go overboard now.”
“A large one, too,” said the captain, resting on his oar.
“Ay, he’s a nasty customer,” said the mate.
“What is?” cried Mark eagerly. “What is it you can all see?”
“Shark!” said the captain.
“Where? Where? I want to see a shark.”
Mark’s eyes were roving all about, but he saw nothing in any direction save a little dark triangular piece of something, with the forward side a little curved, and this was moving slowly through the water.
“There, my lad, there,” said the captain; “can’t you see his back fin?”
“Is that a shark?” said Mark, in a disappointed tone, as the black object, looking like the thick lateen sail of some tiny invisible boat, glided along the surface not fifty yards away, and making as if to cross their bows.