them how expensive and valuable it was. This big-game underwater gun was powered by a COa gas tank and would shoot sixty times with one loading. It had a pistol-grip rear handle and a forward handle of the machine-gun type. Its long tube discharged a barbed arrow connected with the gun by a fifteen-foot wire so that the fish could not swim off with the arrow so long as you held on to the gun.
Hal was cruising along slowly, watching for game. Presently he spotted a large grey snapper swimming among the coral branches. He took aim and fired.
It was a good shot. The arrow went straight through the fish and projected on the other side. The barbs would prevent it from being withdrawn.
The startled fish shot away but was brought up short by the fifteen-foot wire. Hal could feel the strong tug on the gun but he grimly held on.
The gun was whisked this way and that as the fish at the end of the wire shot up and down, in and out, struggling to escape. The rifle bumped against Hal’s mask and knocked it from his head. The mask sank out of sight below some coral branches.
Without the mask, Hal could not see clearly. He could not breathe either, since he had now been pulled under the surface by the fighting fish. To prevent the powerful fish from towing him away through the lagoon, he went to the bottom, got a grip on a coral head, and held on.
Roger was swimming over to help him. He thought he heard a muffled roar somewhere but did not stop to think that it might be an approaching motorboat. His mind had no room for anything but this undersea drama.
He did not hear the shouts of Dr Blake who was hopping up and down like a madman on the deck of the Lively Lady and yelling at the top of his lungs. Shouts above water do not go under water. If just one of Roger’s ears had been above the surface he would have heard the warning, but his head was submerged.
The brown men in the motorized fishing-boat stopped their laughing and singing to listen to the shouts of the man on the schooner’s deck. But, knowing no English, they did not understand him. A split second too late one of them saw the end of Roger’s snorkel projecting above the surface.
Hal, occupied though he was in his fight with the big
snapper, noticed the black shadow sweeping towards
Roger and heard the churn of the screw. Roger, swim
ming towards Hal, was coming straight into the path of
the deadly hull.
Hal swam up towards his brother, but he could make little headway because of the pull of the fish on his gun. It was a choice between saving the gun or saving Roger. He let go of the gun and the big grey snapper promptly swam away towing the precious sea rifle behind him.
Hal crashed into Roger, violently pushing him out of the path of the oncoming boat. Then he ducked, but not in time to escape the boat’s iron-ribbed keel. It struck him squarely on the head and then scraped over him as it sped on. His last thought before he faded out was that the blades of the propeller would chop him into mince meat. Fortunately the men had already cut the motor and the quiet blades did no more than give him a good scrape.
Roger swam to his unconscious brother and held his head out of water. Dr Blake was already swimming out and the fishermen had plunged in to help. Blake and Roger, with the assistance of the natives, got the inert body to the schooner and hoisted it on deck.
Blake felt Hal’s pulse.
‘Just knocked silly. He’ll come out of it all right.’
He went below to get medicine and bandages for the cuts and bruises. Roger and the natives turned Hal over a capstan and got some of the water out of him. Hal began to breathe in gasps. He opened his eyes to find Dr Blake looming over him. A look of complete disgust was on the doctor’s face.
‘Sorry,’ Hal said, but Blake did not answer. He stooped and began patching up the battered body.
Hal felt as if he could sink through the deck for shame. He had lost a costly gun, lost his mask, lost his fish, failed to
Hal was cruising along slowly, watching for game. Presently he spotted a large grey snapper swimming among the coral branches. He took aim and fired.
It was a good shot. The arrow went straight through the fish and projected on the other side. The barbs would prevent it from being withdrawn.
The startled fish shot away but was brought up short by the fifteen-foot wire. Hal could feel the strong tug on the gun but he grimly held on.
The gun was whisked this way and that as the fish at the end of the wire shot up and down, in and out, struggling to escape. The rifle bumped against Hal’s mask and knocked it from his head. The mask sank out of sight below some coral branches.
Without the mask, Hal could not see clearly. He could not breathe either, since he had now been pulled under the surface by the fighting fish. To prevent the powerful fish from towing him away through the lagoon, he went to the bottom, got a grip on a coral head, and held on.
Roger was swimming over to help him. He thought he heard a muffled roar somewhere but did not stop to think that it might be an approaching motorboat. His mind had no room for anything but this undersea drama.
He did not hear the shouts of Dr Blake who was hopping up and down like a madman on the deck of the Lively Lady and yelling at the top of his lungs. Shouts above water do not go under water. If just one of Roger’s ears had been above the surface he would have heard the warning, but his head was submerged.
The brown men in the motorized fishing-boat stopped their laughing and singing to listen to the shouts of the man on the schooner’s deck. But, knowing no English, they did not understand him. A split second too late one of them saw the end of Roger’s snorkel projecting above the surface.
Hal, occupied though he was in his fight with the big
snapper, noticed the black shadow sweeping towards
Roger and heard the churn of the screw. Roger, swim
ming towards Hal, was coming straight into the path of
the deadly hull.
Hal swam up towards his brother, but he could make little headway because of the pull of the fish on his gun. It was a choice between saving the gun or saving Roger. He let go of the gun and the big grey snapper promptly swam away towing the precious sea rifle behind him.
Hal crashed into Roger, violently pushing him out of the path of the oncoming boat. Then he ducked, but not in time to escape the boat’s iron-ribbed keel. It struck him squarely on the head and then scraped over him as it sped on. His last thought before he faded out was that the blades of the propeller would chop him into mince meat. Fortunately the men had already cut the motor and the quiet blades did no more than give him a good scrape.
Roger swam to his unconscious brother and held his head out of water. Dr Blake was already swimming out and the fishermen had plunged in to help. Blake and Roger, with the assistance of the natives, got the inert body to the schooner and hoisted it on deck.
Blake felt Hal’s pulse.
‘Just knocked silly. He’ll come out of it all right.’
He went below to get medicine and bandages for the cuts and bruises. Roger and the natives turned Hal over a capstan and got some of the water out of him. Hal began to breathe in gasps. He opened his eyes to find Dr Blake looming over him. A look of complete disgust was on the doctor’s face.
‘Sorry,’ Hal said, but Blake did not answer. He stooped and began patching up the battered body.
Hal felt as if he could sink through the deck for shame. He had lost a costly gun, lost his mask, lost his fish, failed to
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