Singular as the sailor’s story might appear, it was not in the least an exaggeration. Snowball knew it was not: for the ex-sea-cook could have told of like experiences; and William was also satisfied of its truth, from having read the account of a similar incident, and heard that the evidences of it,—that is, a piece of the solid wood of the ship’s timbers, with the sword imbedded in it,—were to be seen at any time in the British Museum.
Just as Ben had finished his curious relation, a movement upon the part of the pursuer told an intention of changing his tactics,—not as if he was about to retreat, but rather to assume a bolder attitude of offence. The sight of such a fine shoal of fat albacores,—so near and yet so long keeping clear of his attack, appeared to have tantalised him to a point beyond endurance; and, being extra hungry, perhaps he was determined to dine upon them, coute qui coute.
With this intent he drew nearer to the Catamaran swooping from quarter to quarter, then along the sides, and once or twice darting ahead, so as to create in the shoal a degree of excitement that might force them into irregularity of action.
This very effect he at length succeeded in producing; for the pretty creatures became more frightened than ever; and instead of swimming, as hitherto, in concert, and parallel to each other as they had been doing, they got huddled into a crowd, and commenced darting, pell-mell, in every direction.
In the midst of their confusion a large band became separated,—not only from the others, but from the Catamaran,—and fell several fathoms’ length into the wake of the craft.
Upon these the hungry eyes of the prowling monster were now fixed; but only for a moment: for in the next he was charging down among them with a velocity that caused the water to spray upwards against his dorsal fin, while the rushing sound made by his body could be heard afar off over the ocean, “Look, Will’m!” cried Ben, anxious that his protégé should not miss seeing the curious spectacle. “Look, lad! yonder’s a sight worth seein’. Shiver my timbers, if he han’t got a brace o’ ’em on his toastin’ fork!”
While Ben was speaking, the sword-fish had charged into the middle of the frightened flock. There was a momentary plashing,—as several of the albacores leaped up out of the water and fell back again,—there was a surging and bubbling over a few yards of surface, which hindered a clearer view of what was passing; and then outside reappeared the sword-fish, with his long weapon projected above the water, and a brace of the beautiful albacores impaled upon its point!
The wretched creatures were struggling to free themselves from their painful position; but their struggles were not for long. They were terminated almost on the instant,—by the sword-fish giving a quick jerk of his head, and tossing, first one and then the other of his victims high into the air!
As they came down again, it was to fall, not upon the water, but into the throat of the voracious tyrant; who, although toothless and without any means of masticating, made shorter work of it by introducing them untoothed, and at a single gulp, into his capacious maw!