Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece Part 123

Time wore on.

Days grew into weeks.

The mysterious ravages of the secret poisoning still baffled Doctor Anderson and prevented the complete restoration of the patient.

"There's something very extraordinary in this," the doctor would say to Hunston, "something which is quite beyond me. If we were not in the nineteenth century, I should almost be inclined to believe in a spell having been cast upon you."

Hunston winced.

"Upon me?"

"Yes; or rather upon that wonderful mechanical arm. I should almost think that the wearer was under a ban."

The doctor's words thrilled the listener strangely.

Little did he know that Doctor Anderson was well acquainted with the history of the mechanical arm, and of its ill-fated inventor, Robert Emmerson.

Little did he think that the doctor's words were meant to produce the exact effect which they had.

The doctor's speech sank deeply into Hunston's mind, and he brooded day and night.

But although it did not affect his health, it certainly had a most unwholesome effect upon his mind, and the result of this soon made itself manifest.

That same afternoon the two boys and their tutor were on deck.

There was scarcely a breath of wind on the ocean, the sails were hanging loosely from the spars as the vessel rose and fell upon the swelling waves.

"What a country this is for sharks!" exclaimed Mr. Mole, who was seated on the low bulwarks of the weather quarter, enjoying what little air there was, and carefully unloading his pocket pistol.

"Beg pardon, Mr. Mole," said Harry, "but what is the name of _this particular country?"_

Mole frowned horribly.

"You are a very impudent boy."

"No, sir, only a youth of an inquiring turn of mind. What is the chief city of this country?"

"I never answer absurd questions."

Mr. Mole took another suck at the pistol (_i.e._ flask), and then his countenance relaxed.

"It is a place for sharks, though," he said; "only look at that great fellow down here."

Harry looked, and so did young Jack.

There was a monster of the deep moving slowly to and fro, occasionally coming up nearly to the surface and then sinking apparently without an effort almost out of sight.

The fish was of greater size than those they had already killed.

He came up and looked at old Mole and then turned away, evidently thinking the worthy tutor much too old, lean and tough for his dainty stomach; but when he caught sight of Jack and Harry, he showed more animation.

Evidently they were more to his taste.

"I mean to have a try for him," said Jack.

"Do so, my boy. I shall make a sportsman of you yet, I see," observed Mole.

"You have certainly put us up to a wrinkle or two lately, sir."

"Bah! your father is considered a clever man in all that pertains to sporting, but what is he in comparison with me?"

Young Jack did not hear the conclusion of this speech, for he had gone away to get his fis.h.i.+ng tackle, a large hook attached to a chain.

He quickly returned, and baited the hook with about ten pounds of beef, that had gone a little queer in the bottom of the tub.

"Now, Mr. Sharkey, let us see if you can digest that," exclaimed Jack, as he dropped the hook overboard.

The shark looked at it closely, and then looked up at Jack, as though he would much prefer the fisher to the bait.

"It is no use, Jack," said Harry; "he is not hungry."

"Strikes me it is unskilfulness in angling, rather than want of appet.i.te on the shark's part," remarked Mr. Mole.

"Would you like to have a try, sir?"

"Hem! well, I don't mind showing you how to do it," responded the professor.

Jack began to haul in the line, coiling it down just at Mole's feet, or rather where his feet should have been.

But sharkey, finding himself in danger of losing his dinner, made a dart at the meat before it left the water, then discovering that the barb of the hook had stuck in his mouth, she darted off at a great rate, but sad to relate, the rope as it flew out over the bulwark, got twisted round one of Mr. Mole's stumps, and the worthy professor flew into the ocean For a wooden-legged man to swim well, or even to keep himself afloat by treading water, is a somewhat difficult task and so Mr. Mole would have found it, had not Harry Girdwood promptly followed the advice given by a celebrated American--

"When you see a drowning man, throw a rail at him."

Harry threw a plank, and Mr. Mole being fortunate enough to clutch it, was thereby enabled to keep himself afloat.

But he was exposed to another danger.

The shark being irritated by the rusty iron in his throat, was rus.h.i.+ng hither and thither in a most furious manner, snapping his jaws in a way that made the spectators thankful they were on deck.

And then, turning on its back, it bit at Mole.

"Help, help!" shouted Mole.

"Oh! the brute has taken my leg off."

The shark resumed its natural position, and held Mole's stump above water, puzzled to know what to do with it.