Titans to follow. But in truth the battle was
already over. The victim made no attempt at retaliation. It did not even
seem to see its foe, or to know what had stricken it. For a few seconds
it lashed the surface convulsively. Then it dived, plunging straight
downward to die unseen in some rayless cavern of the deeps.

With a leisurely zest which turned Mahoney sick, the monster guzzled its
meal, then swam up and nosed inquiringly along the fringe of barnacles.
Nothing there seeming to interest him, he turned with a disdainful sweep
of his huge flukes and bored his way slowly downwards toward the unknown
deep whence he had so mysteriously come. Unstirring, held fast as if in
a hideous dream, Mahoney watched the dull gray-black form grow green,
and spectral, and faint till at last it vanished. For a brief space he
continued to stare after it, picturing it in his fevered imagination
when it had sunk far beyond any reach of sight. At last, as if tearing
himself free from a horrid spell, he drew a long breath and lifted his
eyes to the horizon.

There, in full view, but too far away to notice such a speck among the
waves as Mahoney on his bit of wreck, was a small freight-boat, steaming
past at a leisurely pace. Mahoney was himself in an instant. He realized
that the sawfish had freed him from his dreadful jailer. With his knife
between his teeth he dived beneath the upturned sloop and fell to
cutting ropes and lashings with a cool but savage haste. In half a
minute he reappeared, gasping, but not discouraged. After two or three
deep breaths he dived again, and this time when he came up, he brought
the long slender pole of the gaff with him. With frantic eagerness he
hoisted the white pennon of his shirt and coat, thanking Heaven that the
gaff was so long. He was about to lash the pole to the bulwarks with his
belt, when he remembered that there was not wind enough to run out the
signal. Lifting it in both hands as high as he could, he waved the flag
wildly over his head in great arcs and sudden violent dips. Would the
lookout on the steamer see? Or seeing, would he understand? Mahoney felt
his strength suddenly failing, as a wave of despair sucked up at his
heart. It was all he could do to keep the signal moving. Then, at last,
he saw that the long line of the steamer's broadside was shortening.
Yes,--she was coming, she was coming. Tremblingly, with fingers that
fumbled, he lashed the staff to the bulwark, and sank pantin