Part 31 (1/2)
Well might he cry ”look,” for a more terrible or revolting apparition never raises head over the black waters of the Greenland ocean than the zugaena, or hammer-headed shark. The skull is in shape precisely what the name indicates, that of a gigantic hammer, with a great eye at each end, and the mouth beneath. This shark is not unfrequently met with in the northern seas, and he is just as fierce as he is fearful to behold.
Allan and Ralph both saw the brute, and neither could repress a shudder.
It appeared but for a few moments, then dived below again.
Silas and McBain, coming up at the time, were told of the occurrence.
”I know the vile beasts well,” said Silas, ”and they do say that they never appear in these seas without bringing a big slice o' ill-luck in their wake. That is unless you catches them, and sometimes that doesn't save the s.h.i.+p. When I was skipper o' the _Penelope_, and that is more than ten years ago, there wasn't a lazier chap in the crew than snuffy Sandy Foster. He wasn't a deal o' use down below, he did nothing on deck, and he never went aloft. He had two favourite positions: one was sitting before a joint of junk, with a knife in his hand; t'other was leaning against the bulwarks with a pipe in his mouth, and we never could make out which he liked best.
”'Did ever you do anything clever in your life, Sandy?' I asked one day.
”Sandy took his pipe out of his mouth and eyed the mainmast for fully half a minute. Then he brought his eyes round to my face, and said,--
”'Not that I can remember o', sir.'
”'The first time, Sandy,' says I, 'that you do anything clever, I'll give you a pair of the best canvas trousers in the s.h.i.+p.'
”Sandy's eyes a kind of sparkled; I'd never seen them sparkle before.
”'I'll win them,' said Sandy, 'wait till ye see.'
”And, indeed, gentlemen, I hadn't long to wait. One day the brig was dead before the wind under a crowd o' cloth, for there wasn't much wind, but a nasty rumble-tumble sea; there was no doubt, gentlemen, from the looks o' that sea, that we had just come through a gale o' wind, and there was evidence enough to go to jury on that there was another not far away. Well, it was just in the dusk o' the evening--we were pretty far south--that the cry got up,--
”'Man overboard.'
”It was our bo's'n's boy, a lad of fourteen, who had gone by the run.
Singing out to the mate to lay to, I ran forward, and if ever I forget the expression of the poor bo's'n's face as he wrung his hands and cried, 'Oh, save my laddie! Oh, save my laddie!' my name will change to something else than Silas.
”'I'll save him,' cried a voice behind me. Some one rushed past. There was a splash in the water next moment, and I had barely time to see it was Sandy. Before the boat reached the spot they were a quarter of a mile astern, but they were saved; they found the bo's'n's laddie riding 'c.o.c.kerty-coosie' on Sandy's shoulder, and Sandy spitting out the mouthfuls of salt water, laughing and crying,--
”'I've won the breeks! I've won the canvas breeks, boys!'
”He had won them, and that right n.o.bly, too. Well, after he had worn them for over a month, it became painfully evident even to Sandy that they sorely needed was.h.i.+ng; but, woe is me! Sandy was too lazy to put a hand to them. But he thought of a plan, nevertheless, to save trouble.
He steeped them in a soda ley, attached a strong line to them, and pitched them overboard to tow.
”When, after two hours' towing, Sandy went to haul them up, great was his astonishment to find a great hammer-head spring half out of the water and seize them. Sandy had never seen so awful a monster before; he put it down as an evil spirit.
”'Let go,' he roared; 'let go my breeks, ye beast.'
”Now, maybe, with those hooked teeth of his, the shark could not let go; anyhow, he did not.
”'I dinna ken who ye are, or what ye are,' cried Sandy, 'but ye'll no get my breeks. Ah! bide a wee.'
”Luckily the dolphin-striker lay handy, Sandy made a grab at it, and next minute it was hard and fast in the hammer-head's neck. To see how that monster wriggled and fought, more like a fiend than a fish, when we got him on deck, would have--but look--look--r--”
Seth had not been idle while his companions were talking. He had cut off choice pieces of blubber and thrown them into the sea; he had coiled his rope on the ice close by; then, harpoon in hand, he knelt ready to strike. Nor had he long to wait. The bait took, the bait was taken, the harpoon had left the trapper's hand and gone deep into the monster's body.
I will not attempt to describe the scene that followed--it was a death-scene that no pen could do justice to--the wild struggle of the giant shark in the water, his mad and frantic motions ere clubbed to death on the ice, and his terrible appearance as he snapped his dreadful jaws at everything within reach; but here is a fact, strange and weird though it may read--fully half an hour after the creature seemed dead, and lying on its side, while our heroes stood silently round it, with the wild birds wheeling and screaming closely overhead, the zugaena suddenly threw itself on its stomach as if about to swim away. It was the last of its movements, and a mere spasmodic and painless one, though very distressing to witness.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.