It was evident, however, to those on board the Catamaran, that the pursuer was gaining upon the pursued; and this at length became also evident to the flying-fish. The tiny creature, as it cut through the clear water, could be seen quivering with fear; and the spectators looked to see it shoot upward into the air, and thus disappoint the greedy tyrant at its tail.
No doubt this would have been the very course of conduct for the flying-fish to have pursued; and no doubt it was on the eve of adopting it, when, all at once, the long, shadowy wings and outstretched neck of the frigate-bird were seen outlined above.
The sight was sufficient to keep the fish under water a while longer, but only a very little while. Above were that ugly red pouch and craning neck; below, those hideous jaws, ready to open and engulf it.
There seemed no chance of escape. It was only a question of choice as to the mode of death: whether it would prefer to become food for a fish, or be devoured by a bird.
As, in itself, it partook a little of the nature of, or, at all events, of the habits of both, there was not much to choose between them; but whether it did not desire to deliver itself over to the enemy most like to itself, or whether it was that the latter was now so near as to be almost certain of seizing it, it declared its preference for the bird by making a sudden spring which carried it clear out of the water, and into the air.
The sea-hawk hovering above in eager expectation lost no time in making the attempt to secure it; but whether he was too sure of his prize, or from some other unexplained reason, certain it is that he gave a practical illustration of the old and well-known adage about the cup and the lip, by failing to clutch the prey.
He was seen darting towards it with open beak,—his talons cruelly extended for its capture; but, notwithstanding all his activity, the white object that shot glittering past him, and dropped into the sea far beyond, proclaimed to the Catamarans that the Exocetus had escaped.