“It’s a whale!” shouted Nick, almost falling overboard in his excitement, as he discovered some dreadful looking black object rushing through the water amid a sparkling mass of foam.
“A whale!” echoed Jimmy, dancing up and down excitedly; “Och! if I only had a harpoon now, wouldn’t it be just grand? A whale would knock the spots out of the biggest shark that iver grew, so it would.”
Jack had snatched up his marine glasses, and was leveling them at the monster, back of which trailed that line of foam and bubbles. The others, watching, saw him stare as though hardly able to believe his eyes, and then laugh outright.
“Oh! there goes Jimmy in the dinky; and, would you believe it, he’s got a gun!” exclaimed Nick. “Nothing is too big to scare that boy, I do believe. He’d just as soon tackle a whale as a sunfish. Call him back, Jack, or he’ll be drowned!”
Jack laid down the glasses, which had occupied his attention so much that he had not observed the actions of his cruising mate.
“Here, you, Jimmy, come right back!” he called, though he could hardly talk because of the desire to laugh.
“But howld on, Jack, darlint, didn’t ye be afther sayin’ anything that swum was a fish; and if I get a whale ain’t it fair play?” the other replied, pausing in his labor of using the short oars belonging to the Tramp’s tender.
“Sure, I did,” answered Jack; “but that didn’t mean you could go around banging away at one of your Uncle Sam’s submarines, out for a trial spin from the Pensacola navy-yard. I guess you’d better come back now, before you get in trouble; don’t you?”