"Oh, if I only had my electric rifle!" cried Tom. "I'd make some of those ugly sharks feel sick!"
"Bless my cartridge belt!" cried Mr. Damon. "That would be a good idea. The porpoises are such harmless creatures. It's a shame to see them attacked so."
For the activity of the sharks had now redoubled, and they were darting here and there amid the school of porpoises biting with their cruel jaws. The other fish were frantically leaping and tumbling, but the strange part of it was that the schools of sharks and porpoises kept about the same distance ahead of the ship, so that the passengers had an excellent view of the novel and thrilling sight.
"Rifle!" said Mr. Sander, catching at the word. "I fancy the captain may have some. He's quite a friend of mine, I'll speak to him."
"Get me one, too, if you please," called Ned as the gentleman hurried away.
"And I'll also try my luck at potting a shark. Bless my gunpowder if I won't!" said Mr. Damon.
The captain did have several rifles in his stateroom, and he loaned them to Mr. Sander. They were magazine weapons, firing sixteen shots each, but they were not of as high power as those Tom had packed away.
"Now we'll make those sharks sing a different tune, if sharks sing!" cried the young inventor.
"Yes, we're coming to the rescue of the porpoises!" added Ned.
The passengers crowded up to witness the marksmanship, and soon the lads and Mr. Damon were at it.