For just a moment Barclay thought he was about to faint.
But when at last the wreck struck the sea with a sounding thud, all feeling of fear and sickness was banished as if by magic.
“Give way, lads; give way,” he cried. “We may at least save the body of our captain from the sharks.”
The men gave way with a will.
The wreck of the balloon had fallen within seventy yards of them.
It was a race between the boat and the horrid Squalidæ (sharks of different kinds) that infested the warm lake.
Antonio’s body was floating on its back, and he looked peaceful and asleep.
It was saved only just in time.
One of the black men brought the whole weight of a cannibal’s battle-axe club and his own immense strength to bear upon a hammer-headed shark that had sprung from the depths to seize what he took for his lawful prize, and next moment the hideous creature floated dead on the surface of the water.