out of the water. There was a tremendous pull, a great splashing,
and then the men tumbled in a heap on the dock, and the hook was jerked
sharply over the rail.

"Cuss the luck," growled the boatswain. "The 'ook didn't 'old."

The taste of salt beef evidently suited the shark, for he was soon right
alongside, cruising back and forth, looking for more. We could see him
distinctly, and a tremendous fellow he was. Again the men baited the
hook and dropped it overboard. We saw the big fish dart forward, turn on
his side and grab the bait with a sharp snap of his terrible jaws. Again
the hook would not catch, and the shark was waiting for more beef. The
men were about to make a third attempt when Uncle John started.

"Wait a bit, men," he said. "I've got a hook that will hold. Give me a
piece of the meat."

The men fell back and looked eagerly. The cook handed up a big chunk of
meat. "Wipe it as dry as you can," said uncle, "and tie it firmly to the
rope." When this was done he sprinkled the powder from the can carefully
over the meat; then he carried it cautiously to the rail. The shark was
cruising back and forth. Uncle lowered the meat slowly into the water,
right in front of the monster. He saw the bait and darted at it, and
then there was a tremendous report, and the spray flew into our faces as
we leaned over the rail. The next moment we saw the big fish floating
motionless on the water.

"Blessed if 'e 'asn't blowed 'is 'ead clean hoff," said the boatswain.

It was so. That terrible compound of Uncle John's had needed only the
impact of the shark's teeth to explode it with deadly effect. Uncle
looked perfectly happy. The effect on Helen was strange. For the first
time since she had been with us she seemed to be angry.

"I think you are very cruel," she said to Uncle John, "to kill that
beautiful shark. He had not harmed you. I shall not love you any more."
As she said this she stepped to my side and grasped my hand, as though
she feared uncle and wanted my protection. The men heard her words and
the effect was marked. They had been in high good humor over the death
of the shark, the sailors' most dreaded enemy, but at these strange
words they shrank away with gloomy faces, and I could hear muttered
curses, and the words "witch" and "she-devil." That put an end to the
good humor that for the first time in days seemed to pervade the
becalmed vessel. Uncle John made one more "torpeter" with the little
powder that