“So will I,” said Dick Kemp. “I should not be surprised that the Captain would exert himself, since as you say he sailed with him.”
With a fair breeze the Ruby sailed down Channel, carrying the fine weather some way into the Atlantic and then encountered a heavy gale; but her hull was tight, and her Captain had seen that she was well fitted, having carefully inspected her masts and spars, and every standing and running rope of her rigging before they were set up and rove. Escaping from the gale without damage, she ran into southern latitudes. She had a fair breeze. One day, with all sail set below and aloft, carrying her along at the rate of seven or eight knots an hour, Dick Kemp, Charlie, and Roger were on deck together, when, as they were looking over the side, they observed a dark triangular object cutting rapidly through the water.
“Hilloa! what is that curious thing?” asked Charlie.
“That is the fin of Jack Shark,” said Kemp, “the vilest brute that exists; the hated foe of us sailors. I don’t know how many fine fellows he has not grabbed by the leg, and gobbled up.”
“I wish that I had a gun, I would shoot him,” said Charlie, “and he would do no more mischief; but unfortunately he has plenty of brothers and sisters like him; as soon as he sees the gun he will be off like a shot.”
“I will borrow a musket, and see if I cannot hit him,” cried Roger. Roger was not long in getting the gun, while Kemp, hurrying forward, obtained a piece of rancid pork, which he fastened to the end of a line.
“Now, Roger, look out,” he said, as he threw the pork overboard, and Roger held his gun in readiness. Presently the fin disappeared; a white glistening object rose to the surface; off went Roger’s musket.
“I hit him, I am sure,” cried Roger, as the shark sank.
“I think you did, and right through the head. I saw a tinge of red, but it went in a moment,” said Kemp. “We have settled the brute, and I wish we could settle every other that comes alongside. We will keep the pork, and if we can find a hook, we will have the next on board.”
On sailed the ship. The Captain, however, coming on deck, observed indications of a change, and ordered canvas to be reduced. Roger’s duty required him to remain on deck; Charlie Ross ran up with the two other midshipmen to the foreyard to superintend the operation of taking in a reef. Roger was looking forward when he observed an object fall from the yard; at the same time a cry burst forth from the throats of several of the crew, “A man overboard!” As Roger ran to the side he had seen Charlie Ross on the yard-arm, but he was not there now, and as the person floated by he felt sure that he was his friend. Without recollecting the shark they had seen in the morning, without thinking of any danger to himself, his ardent desire being to save his friend, he plunged overboard. Charlie had struck the water on his side, and was apparently senseless, for he made no attempt to save himself; but still he floated. The ship running fast at the time, and only part of the sails having been furled, Roger heard the Captain give the order to heave her to, as he struck out towards his friend, whom he reached just as he appeared on the point of sinking. At that moment Charlie’s consciousness had returned.