The Golden Magnet Part 8

"Try them! What, bathe? Why, Tom, you must be mad!"

"I never said a word about bathing, Mas'r Harry," he responded rather grumpily. "I said, Let's try 'em. I say if we had a big hook and line, Mas'r Harry," he continued, with a broadly comical grin, "and baited with nice fat little n.i.g.g.e.rs, what sport we should have."

"Nice fun for the little n.i.g.g.e.rs as you call them, Tom," I said.

"Yes, it wouldn't be very nice for them, Mas'r Harry. But I say, let's see if they'd go at a bait."

"How?" I cried.

"Stop a moment, and I'll show you," he said; and running to where one of the firemen was having a quiet pipe on deck, I saw Tom accost him, and then go down into the stoke-hole, to come up again directly with a big lump of slaty coal, bearing which he joined me.

"Let's drop this in gently," he said, "just over them; or, no, it would make such a splash some of the sailors would come to see. I've got a bit of string in my pocket."

Tom always had a bit of string in his pocket, and unrolling it he loosely tied it round the lump of coal, and then getting well on the bulwark raised the coal gently up and over the side, beginning to lower it down.

"Take care you don't go over instead of the coal, Tom," I said with a grim smile.

"Oh, I say, Mas'r Harry, don't talk like that!" he cried; "it's enough to give a chap the shudders. It was only my fun about the little n.i.g.g.e.rs. Now, then, I think I can shake it out of the loop."

The sharks were just below us, and eight or ten feet down, as Tom lowered the piece of coal right to the surface, without making any splash and disturbing the water so as to interrupt our view of what we hoped would take place. Then giving the string a jerk he loosened the coal, which began to descend rapidly, its bright black surface flashing in the brilliant sunshine till it was half-way down, when there was a tremendous swirl in the water, which danced and flashed and obscured our vision, only that we caught sight of something--of two somethings--quite white, and then by degrees the water calmed down, and there were the two sharks still there, but turned round with their heads in a fresh direction.

"Why, they took the coal, and one of 'em's swallowed it, Mas'r Harry,"

cried Tom excitedly.

"No, Tom: I think I can see it right down below there," I said; "but they did have a try at it."

"What are you young fellows doing there?" said a voice; and, as we turned sharply round, there stood the captain. "What! are you fishing?"

"No, sir," said Tom; "I only dropped something over to see if the big fish there would take it."

"Oh, I see!" he exclaimed. "Sharks! Yes, there are plenty of them, my lads. No bathing here. You should get the cook to give you a lump of bad pork, and hang that over by the string: that would fetch them."

Tom took the hint, and running to the cook told him what the captain said, returning at the end of a minute to where I was still watching the two monsters, the captain having gone.

"I'll tie this tight on, Mas'r Harry," cried Tom, suiting the action to the word. "I say, don't I wish we had a hook!"

The piece of meat was soon firmly secured, and twisting one end of the string round his hand, Tom took his old place beside me, chuckling and laughing, and began to lower down his bait.

"I say, Mas'r Harry, I wish it was a bar o' soap. If one of 'em swallowed it I wonder what he'd think of the taste."

By this time Tom had his bait close to the water, and directly after he let it drop on the surface, where it made a little disturbance and then floated.

Almost at the same moment it appeared as if, without the slightest movement, one of the sharks was growing bigger and closer. It seemed to fascinate us, so cautiously did it rise nearer and nearer, till all of a sudden it rolled right over on its side, showing the creamy white of its under parts; there was a gleam of teeth, a swirl in the water, and the greasy lump of salt pork disappeared.

As it did so I saw Tom's arm give a sudden jerk, and as he uttered a yell I realised what was wrong, flinging my arms round him, and threw myself inboard, so that I dragged him with me, and we fell together upon the deck.

"Oh, my eye!" gasped Tom as we sat up on the deck; and he held up his hand, beginning to unwind the broken string from it, and showing how deeply it had cut into it before it gave way.

"What an escape, Tom!" I cried, and as I spoke I felt that I must be looking very white.

"I should have gone overboard if you hadn't laid hold o' me, Mas'r Harry," he said, looking blankly in my face. "How strong that string was, and how it cut!"

"How stupid of you to tie it round your hand like that!" I said.

"Well, I s'pose it was, Mas'r Harry," he said ruefully; "but one didn't think of it then."

"Well, let's have a look at the sharks," I said, as the horror of what might have happened pa.s.sed off.

"No, thankye, Mas'r Harry," said Tom sulkily. "I've had enough shark for one day. My hand's 'bout cut in two, and my arm's 'bout pulled outer the socket, and one of my legs was twissen under me when I come down, I've had enough shark to last me half a lifetime."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE NEW LAND.

As the shuddering feeling of what Tom had escaped pa.s.sed off, we both thought it would be better to say nothing about it. We knew that he had acted foolishly; and I felt that I ought to have known better, and then soon enough, boy like, we forgot it all.

For there was a bright future spread before us, and I began to wonder how it was that with such lovely places on the face of the earth, people could be content to live in old England. There, seen through the bright transparent atmosphere, were convent, cathedral, castle, and tower, grouped at the foot of a mountain, glistening with endless tints as it towered up nine thousand feet, wall and battlement running up the spurs of the great eminence.

The scene was lovely, and I was in raptures then with all that lay before me, and again I asked myself how people could be content in chilly Europe; but I soon understood all that.

Tom was walking by my side, and turning to him--

"What do you think of it, Tom?" I said.

"Well, 'taint so very bad, Mas'r Harry," he grumbled out. "But ain't them sharkses?"

I followed his pointing finger, and, to my horror, I could see, cleaving the blue and creamy-foamed water, close insh.o.r.e, the black fins of one-- two--three--half a score of sharks; while all the time, dashing and splashing in and out of the surf, busily unloading boats and larger vessels, were dozens of mulatto porters.

I expected every moment to hear a shriek and to see the silver foam tinged with red. My heart beat intermittently, and there was a strange dampness in my hands; but I soon learned that familiarity bred contempt, and that probably from the noise and splashing kept up, the sharks rarely ventured an attack. But all the same, that one incident made me gaze down into the blue depths where we were at anchor with a shudder, and think that the waters were not so safe as those of home.

I had yet to learn something of the land.

"What's this place called, Mas'r Harry?" said Tom, interrupting my reverie. "You did tell me, but I've forgotten."

"La Guayra!"

"Humph!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tom. "Why can't they call places by some name in plain English?"

But the various strange sights and sounds soon silenced Tom's tongue, and, tired out at last with a long walk, we went to the house that had been recommended to me, and after partaking of coffee--the best I ever remember to have drunk--I sought my room, Tom insisting upon sleeping on the floor in the same chamber, and my last waking recollections were of the pungent fumes of tobacco, and the tinkle, tinkle, tw.a.n.g of a guitar beneath my window.

I must have been asleep about three hours, and I was dreaming of having found gold enough to load a vessel homeward bound, when I was wakened by some one shaking me violently, and as I started up I became aware of a deafening noise, a choking sensation, as of dust rising in a cloud, and the voice of Tom Bulk.

"Mas'r Harry--Mas'r Harry! Wacken up, will you?"

"What's the matter?" I gasped, springing out of bed, but only to reel and stagger about before falling heavily.