A line was thrown to Dave and the sailors, and all were hauled on board.
"My boy! My boy!" murmured Amos Fearless. "What a narrow escape for you!"
"You saved my life, father!" replied Dave. He could scarcely speak, but the grip he gave his parent's hand meant a good deal.
Some of the sailors wanted to bring the shark's remains on board, to get the teeth, and Captain Broadbeam consented, and later on, the scientists on the Swallow prepared the skeleton for mounting, to be sent to the Smithsonian Institution at Washington.
It remained very warm, and Captain Broadbeam looked constantly for a storm.
"Almost all ships catch 'em in these latitudes," he remarked to Dave. "This may be a long time a-coming, but it will pay up for lost time when it does come."
In this surmise Captain Broadbeam was correct.
Two days later, while the sun was shining brightly, there appeared a cloud to the south-west, scarcely bigger than a man's hand.
But the cloud grew larger with great rapidity, until it covered half the sky, and the sunlight was shut out and soon all became as dark, almost, as night. The wind began to blow and soon the waves were running higher and higher.
"We must run into the teeth of the storm," said the captain, and gave orders to change the course.