“What about giving him a clip with the hatchet the next time he comes close enough?” suggested Fred.
“Suppose you try it,” was the answer. “Get a 127 tight grip on the rail and bend away over. Then the next time he hits the boat, hit him on the nose. If you catch him right it will stun him, and then I can finish him with the harpoon.”
Fred grasped the hatchet and disposed himself to take advantage of the next rush. He gripped the rail with his left hand, while Bill and Teddy held his legs tightly.
“If you go over, we go over with you,” Teddy assured him.
“The shark would have a square meal then for fair,” laughed Fred.
But the shark seemed to understand the trap laid for him and refused to fall in with their plans. He resorted again to fierce lunging and diving, but did not again approach the boat.
“He’s laughing at you,” jibed Teddy.
“I don’t think he feels like laughing at anything just now,” replied Fred, as he rose to his feet. “But he’s evidently given up the idea of dashing his brains out against the boat.”
“He’ll be tired out before long,” judged Lester, “and then I’ll give you a chance to see what an expert I am at throwing a harpoon.”
It was clear that the sea pirate was exhausting his strength in his futile struggles. His long career of cruelty and rapine was rapidly coming to an end.