"Look out! here's a shark!"
Instantly came a rush in the water beside me, and up started between me and the ship the big ungainly head, the grinning teeth, the small, narrow, cruel eye, the huge pointed fin, like some ugly vision in a nightmare.
Luckily the shark's overlapping snout forces him to turn on his side in order to bite, or all would have been over at the first rush. A sudden turn foiled the monster, but the next moment he was round and at me again like an arrow. And so we went plunging to and fro, churning the smooth blue water into foam, while the shouts of the sailors (who had clustered like bees along the ship's side) seemed to rend the very sky.
But my enemy was too hungry to be scared by noise, and although we were gradually nearing the ship, always kept himself between. My breath began to fail, and I felt that before the boat could be lowered I should be past help, for the shark had turned short round and met me front to front.
There was a loud halloo from above—something splashed heavily into the water—and then the sea all round me became a whirl of foam. A billet of wood, flung from the upper deck, had hit the shark on his tenderest point, the snout; and before he could rally from this stunning blow, I had seized the anchor-chain and was safe on board.
"Captain," said I, as the worthy man came up just in time to witness my ascent, "I shall certainly take your advice after this."
"Dare say you will, when it's too late to be of any use!" growled the uncourteous skipper. "I always thought you was a fool, and now I'm sure of it."
This was certainly not complimentary, but on reflection I was much of the same opinion myself.