Meanwhile, Martin Bruvold was in terror that the shark would smash the boat to pieces. He drew his knife and took a step forward—a flash in the air, and the steel went in deep between the back fins, sending up a spurt of blood. “Look out!” cried the others, but Martin had already sprung back out of reach of the black tail. And now the dance of death began anew. The knife was fixed to the grip in the creature’s back; one gaff had buried its hook between the eyes, and another hung on the flank—the wooden shafts were flung this way and that at every bound, and the boat’s frame shook and groaned under the blows.
“She’ll smash the boat and we’ll go to the bottom,” cried Peer.
And now HIS knife flashed out and sent a stream of blood spouting from between the shoulders, but the blow cost him his foothold—and in a moment the two bodies were rolling over and over together in the bottom of the boat.
“Oh, Lord Jesus!” shrieked Klaus, clinging to the stempost. “She’ll kill him! She’ll kill him!”
Peer was half up now, on his knees, but as he reached out a hand to grasp the side, the brute’s jaws seized on his arm. The boy’s face was contorted with pain—another moment and the sharp teeth would have bitten through, when, swift as thought, Peter Ronningen dropped his oars and sent his knife straight in between the beast’s eyes. The blade pierced through to the brain, and the grip of the teeth relaxed.
“C-c-cursed d-d-devil!” stammered Peter, as he scrambled back to his oars. Another moment, and Peer had dragged himself clear and was kneeling by the forward thwart, holding the ragged sleeve of his wounded arm, while the blood trickled through his fingers.
When at last they were pulling homeward, the little boat overloaded with the weight of the great carcase, all at once they stopped rowing.
“Where is Klaus?” asked Peer—for the doctor’s son was gone from where he had sat, clinging to the stem.
“Why—there he is—in the bottom!”
There lay the big lout of fifteen, who already boasted of his love-affairs, learned German, and was to be a gentleman like his father—there he lay on the bottom-boards in the bow in a dead faint.