“A narrow escape, Belton,” said the lieutenant; “but you are saved, thank heaven. Give way, my men.”
“Arn’t we going to try and serve out Master Jack, sir?” said one of the men.
“No, my lad. What can we do without bait or line?”
“Like to spritsail-yard him, sir?” said Strake, touching his hat.
“What’s spritsail-yarding?” said Syd, who was now trying to squeeze some of the water out of his drenched uniform.
“Ketching your shark and then running a little spar through his nose,” whispered the bo’sun, as the men gave way and the boat surged through the water. “This here’s lashed so as he can’t get it out, and it keeps him from sinking, as he moves it afore him.”
“But it’s horribly cruel,” said Syd, pausing in his wringing process.
“Well, ’tarn’t nice for him, sir,” said the boatswain; “but then you see it’s cruel of Master Jack to be taking off arms and legs, and it stops that, sir.”
This argument was unanswerable for the moment, and just then another shark was sighted, and its appearance fascinated Syd, who shuddered as he gazed at the monster, and thought of the horrible fate he had escaped.
“I wonder what father will say to me when he learns of my adventure,” he said to himself.