rowled, kept always in sight, always
near, till Mahoney began to wonder if it were really possible that the
tireless monster would get him in the end. He registered a vow that if
he should find himself growing delirious with thirst he would lash
himself so securely to the bulwark that, come what might, the shark
should never get his body. Comforted by this resolve, and the torment of
his thirst mitigated a trifle by a drenching in the brine, Mahoney fell
asleep again, and did not wake till the sun was streaming savagely on
his face.

Untying himself from the bulwark, Mahoney stared about him wildly. A
tall-masted brig, with royal and topgallant sails drawing full, was
retreating in the distance. Apparently, it had passed not far from the
wreck. Mahoney cursed himself wildly for having allowed himself to fall
asleep. This had been perhaps, his one chance. No other sail was in
sight. There was nothing but a wisp of smoke on the horizon, betraying
the passage of an unseen steamer. Mahoney found that he was babbling to
himself about it, and the realization shocked him. He shook himself,
pulled his courage and his nerve together sharply, then took off his
clothes and splashed himself with water from head to foot. It was
certain that his thirsty skin must absorb a good share of the liquid so
generously applied to it; and thus assuring himself, his thirst became,
or seemed to become less intolerable. When he had dressed
again,--leaving off his shirt, which he kept tied to the bulwark ready
for instant use,--he leaned over and peered down into the smooth water
to look for the shark.

Grim and spectral, the great shape was just in sight, rising with
strange indolence toward the surface. Evidently, some good-sized victim
had just been devoured. The shark came to rest within a few inches of
the surface, where the sun could warm its rough back through the thin
barrier of the water. There it lay, apparently basking, with the content
of one that has well dined. The complacent malignity of its eyes, which
seemed to meet the man's eyes with a peculiarly confident menace, filled
Mahoney with rage. He tore savagely at the bulwarks, in a foolish
attempt to provide himself with a missile.

In the midst of this futile effort, Mahoney chanced to drop his glance
into the depths. There he caught sight of something that arrested him,
making him forget for the moment even the tortures of his thirst. In the
deepest green, at the very confines