As soon as I could leave the coffee, I got a piece of pork out of our small harness cask, and lashed it to a piece of line, whilst Bob, under my directions, charged the gun. This done, the pork was hung just outside the taffrail, and full in the shark’s view, but not in the water; and I lay down on deck with the gun ready for my gentleman, should he make a rush.
This, however, he seemed indisposed to do; eyeing the bait longingly, but keeping at a respectful distance. Gradually this distance shortened, however, and he finally ventured close under the boat’s stern, and within about three feet of the pork.
I kept the gun levelled at him, aiming at his eye; and now, having him so close, and so directly under me, I thought there was little fear of the bullet being diverted from its proper direction by the water, so I fired.
The lead sped true; the blood spirted from the creature’s eye, and with a tremendous spring he threw himself backward, only to roll over on his back with a convulsive writhe or two ere he floated motionless and dead.
“So much for bullyin’ honest seamen when they has the misfortin’ to walk overboard,” observed Bob, eyeing the carcase with much complacency. “I shall feel more comfortable like, now I knows as your cruise is over for good and all.”
“Walk overboard, Bob!” exclaimed I. “You surely do not mean to say you walked overboard?”
“’Twas little else, my lad. But I’ll tell ye all about it whilst we’re getting our breakfast stowed under hatches; for I’ll be bound you’re longing to hear the rights of the story.”
“That indeed I am, old fellow; so come along below, and let us get the yarn and our breakfasts at once; I am longing for both.”
Having taken a look all round, to see that nothing was in sight, we went below and seated ourselves at the cabin-table, and Bob forthwith proceeded with his story.