“Listen to the chant of the slave driver!” jibed Bill.
“There’s nothing left but to obey, shipmates,” said Fred with mock resignation. “Remember he’s the captain and we don’t want to be tried for mutiny.”
They distributed the implements among them and moved in a body toward the shark.
The first thing to do was to get out the harpoon, and this was no easy task, for the barb of the shank lay deeply imbedded among the tough fibres of its victim. The implement was freed at last, however, and Lester carefully washed it off in the water and then polished it with sand until it shone.
“Just see him gloat,” laughed Teddy. “You’d think he was a pilgrim who had just come across a precious relic.”
“Or a miner who had found a diamond,” added Ross.
“He’s earned the right to gloat,” maintained Fred. “If I’d driven home a harpoon with such a sure hand and steady aim as his, I’d be so proud that my hat wouldn’t fit me.”
“I’m thinking as much of dad as I am of myself,” grinned Lester. “He’ll be tickled to death 151 when he hears that I’ve speared a shark with that old harpoon of his. He’s always thought a lot of it, but he’ll think still more of it now.”
“Well, now that the harpoon is out, let’s turn this fellow on his back. I want to have a good look at that mouth of his,” remarked Fred.
It was quite an undertaking, but by distributing themselves along the body, using their implements as levers and all heaving at a given signal, they finally succeeded.