While almost every one else was gathered around the boat that had been partly emptied of its load, Ted found himself alone near the craft that was about to go out and bring in what fish remained in the nets.
“I’ll climb up the outside and look over the edge,” said Teddy to himself.
This he did. He managed to scramble up the outside of the craft, and he looked down inside on the rubber coats of the men, the oars (to be used in case the gasolene motor failed) at the sharp pikes for killing sharks, at the bits of tarred nets and other things.
Then, all of a sudden, Ted overbalanced himself. Head first, he fell inside the boat on a pile of nets—nets that were being taken out to be fastened to some of the poles.
“Oh!” gasped Ted. He wasn’t hurt, but the breath was knocked from him, and he couldn’t get up for several seconds. Then, before he knew it, there was a shout and the boat began gliding down the beach on the wooden rollers.
“All in!” cried a voice.
Crouched down inside the boat, tangled up in the mass of nets, Ted saw hands grasping the gunwhale of the craft. The men were running it down into the water and holding on to the edge so they could leap in once the boat was fully afloat.
“Hey! Let me out! I want to get out!” cried Ted, when he understood what was going to happen.
But the fishermen were shouting orders one to another, and the surf was booming on the sandy beach, so Ted’s voice wasn’t heard. In another moment the men had leaped over the side of the craft, the engine was started, and out to sea Ted was being taken.
Not until the boat was beyond the last line of breakers, during which passage it was tossed up and down and from side to side in a manner most alarming to the little boy—not until after that was Ted discovered.