Suddenly he saw a long flaming streak in the water. The man on the bobstay swore furiously. There was a great splash, a hoarse cry, and the second mate was forward alone.
It was all so sudden, he had hardly time to realize its meaning. Then, as the man who had gone below rushed up, he seized his sheathed knife and plunged into the blackness ahead. A thrashing of the water to starboard located the wrecker, who had been seized by a dog-shark and was cutting and struggling wildly for liberty. His white legs, lying motionless and half submerged, had tempted the fish to strike. In motion and under water, the danger had been slight. Now the scavenger, who was about five feet long, had seized hold, and with its natural bulldog tenacity was pulling the wrecker steadily seaward in spite of his struggles. He had used his knife freely, for the fish made no attempt to draw him under. The small shark of the reef, for some reason, fights upon the surface, sinking only after all resistance is over. It was to this peculiarity that the wrecker owed his life.
The big mate, Haskins, knew what had happened. He knew also the chances, and he drove ahead through the black water, leaving a flaming wake behind. The man on lookout, thinking the black giant had gone mad, dived below with the news that he had plunged overboard and committed suicide. At first, Haskins could only make out a slight disturbance in the water, which was rapidly moving toward the entrance. Then, as his eyes, long used to sea-water, made out the dark lump which was his former captain's head, he half rose from the sea and with tremendous overhand strokes fairly lifted himself forward, his knife grasped with point in front. In a few moments he was up with the fracas. The wrecker saw him coming, and called out. He seized him, and then all three went below the surface with the force of the fish's tug.
Reaching along the wrecker's leg, Haskins drove his knife with force just behind the shark's jaw-socket. The blow abated the scavenger's zeal, and they arose to the surface. A second lunge and the fish let go and disappeared. Then the wrecker's body relaxed, and Haskins was swimming upon the quiet surface of the bay, holding the sinking head above water.
Far away, the dark outlines of Virginia Key showed, a low black lump on the horizon. Beyond it, the dull snore of the surf came over the water. A good hundred yards against the tide, the anchor-light of the yacht shone. It would be almost impossible to drag the insensible man to her, even should he dare. There was only one way out of the scrape, and Haskins with resolute mind saw it and began the struggle at once. He headed for the mouth of the river, where he knew the Sea-Horse lay waiting, just behind the point.
On through the blackness he swam. The first mile seemed endless, and still the lifeless form of the wrecker dragged helplessly in his wake. Another, and his teeth were shut like a vise and his breath was panting loudly over the quiet water. He turned the point, and saw the loom of the Sea-Horse as she rose at anchor beyond the shadow of the trees upon the banks.
Suddenly a man hailed in a low tone. The mate made no answer, but headed for the bobstays and grasped them. Then he rested. Half an hour later, the captain of the wrecker came to in his bunk and viewed his bandaged leg. A lamp burned dimly in the cabin, and he made out the form of the black mate lying in a bunk, snoring loudly. Several of the crew were sitting around waiting until he could give the details of the affair, and now they crowded forward. The plot was a failure owing to Haskins. He told of the huge mate's interference and of the stroke of the dog-shark. Then they burst forth with imprecations so loud that Haskins awoke. Knives glinted in the dim light and a half-dozen sinister faces formed a crescent above him, but he was very tired. He gazed for nearly a minute through half-closed lids at the threatening men. He thought he heard the captain calling weakly for the men to let him alone. What he had done for him was not entirely lost. Then he gave a snort of contempt and turned his back to them and slept.
Even the boldest held back. The conscious power of the man and his disdain for them all were too much even for the most desperate. They drew away sullenly and listened to their captain, and then as his words, whispered low, began to have effect, they left the cuddy. Silently they hoisted the mainsail and carefully drew in fathom after fathom of the cable. The jib was hoisted and the Sea-Horse stood out and passed like a dark shadow from the harbour. As the sun rose and gave colour to the sea, the deep blue of the wind-broken surface told of the Gulf Stream. The land had disappeared astern.
In the early morning, the yacht-master put sail on the Caliban and stood out for New York. He had a full crew lacking a second mate, and they carried the story North how they had shipped a black giant who had gone mad during the night and plunged to his death over the knightheads.