e approach.

Then there was a loud cheer as Rogers seized his opportunity, and
brought down the axe he had snatched up with so vigorous a stroke on the
creature's back, about a couple of feet above the great lobe of the
tail, that the vertebra was divided, and from that moment the violent
efforts to get free lost their power.

It was an easy task now to give the savage monster its _coup de grace_,
and as it lay now quivering and beyond doing mischief, the men set up
another cheer and crowded round.

"There," cried Rogers, "that means shark steak for dinner, lads, and--"

"Sail ho!" came from above; and the shark was forgotten as the words
sent an electric thrill through all.

"Come on, Roylance!" cried Syd, climbing up the rope-ladder to run and
get his glass.

"Ay, ay," cried Roylance, following.

"Let's get a better hold with the rope, mates," said Rogers, "and haul
the beggar right up on deck. They're artful beggars is sharks, and if
we leave him here he'd as like as not to come to life, shove a few
stitches in the cut in his tail, and go off to sea again."

The men laughed, and the prize was hauled right up to the perpendicular
wall below the tackle, willing hands making the quivering mass fast, and
hauling it right up into the gap, and beyond all possibility of its
again reaching the sea.

CHAPTER FORTY.

A good deal had been done to make the way easy, but still it was an
arduous and hot climb up to the flagstaff, on his way to which Syd had
found time, in case they had not heard, to announce the sail in sight to
Mr Dallas and the boatswain.

There it was, sure enough, a vessel in full sail right away in the east;
and as Syd gazed at it through the glass, his spirits sank.

"It isn't the _Sirius_," he said, as he handed the glass to Roylance.

"No, sir," said the man on the look-out; "she's a Frenchy, I think."

"How do you know it isn't the _Sirius_?" said Roylance, as he used the
glass.

"Because her masts slope more than those do," replied Syd, and then he
felt how ignorant he was, and how old Strake would have told the
nationality of a vessel "by the cut of her jib," as he would have termed
it. His musings were interrupted by Roylance.

"Yes, I think she's a French ship," he said. "Bound for Saint Jacques,
evidently, and I dare say she'll come by here."

"Well, we can't stop her," said Syd, shortly, for he felt annoyed that
his companion should know so much more of seafaring matters