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Facing the Flag eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 167 pages of information about Facing the Flag.

I soon found, however, that it was not fishers, but sharks that had driven the whale through the tunnel, and which infest these waters in great numbers.  I could see them plainly as they darted about, turning upon their backs and displaying their enormous mouths which were bristling with their cruel teeth.  There were five or six of the monsters, and they attacked the whale with great viciousness.  The latter’s only means of defence was its tail, with which it lashed at them with terrific force and rapidity.  But the whale had received several wounds and the water was tinged with its life-blood; for plunge and lash as it would, it could not escape the bites of its enemies.

However, the voracious sharks were not permitted to vanquish their prey, for man, far more powerful with his instruments of death, was about to take a hand and snatch it from them.  Gathered around the lagoon were the companions of Ker Karraje, every whit as ferocious as the sharks themselves, and well deserving the same name, for what else are they?

Standing amid a group, at the extremity of the jetty, and armed with a harpoon, was the big Malay who had prevented me from entering Ker Karraje’s house.  When the whale got within shot, he hurled the harpoon with great force and skill, and it sank into the leviathan’s flesh just under the left fin.  The whale plunged immediately, followed by the relentless sharks.  The rope attached to the weapon ran out for about sixty yards, and then slackened.  The men at once began to haul on it, and the monster rose to the surface again near the end of the tunnel, struggling desperately in its death agony, and spurting great columns of water tinged with blood.  One blow of its tail struck a shark, and hurled it clean out of water against the rocky side, where it dropped in again, badly, if not fatally injured.

The harpoon was torn from the flesh by the jerk, and the whale went under.  It came up again for the last time, and lashed the water so that it washed up from the tunnel end, disclosing the top of the orifice.

Then the sharks again rushed on their prey, but were scared off by a hail of the explosive bullets.  Two men then jumped into a boat and attached a line to the dead monster.  The latter was hauled into the jetty, and the Malays started to cut it up with a dexterity that showed they were no novices at the work.

No more sharks were to be seen, but I concluded that it would be as well to refrain from taking a bath in the lagoon for some days to come.

I now know exactly where the entrance to the tunnel is situated.  The orifice on this side is only ten feet below the edge of the western bank.  But of what use is this knowledge to me?

August 7.—­Twelve days have elapsed since the Count d’Artigas, Engineer Serko, and Captain Spade put to sea.  There is nothing to indicate that their return is expected, though the tug is always kept in readiness for immediate departure by Gibson, the engine-driver.  If the Ebba is not afraid to enter the ports of the United States by day, I rather fancy she prefers to enter the rocky channel of Back Cup at nightfall.  I also fancy, somehow, that Ker Karraje and his companions will return to-night.

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