It was little worth having, however; but, as Peterkin remarked, it was better than the smouts he had been catching for the last two or three days; so we laid it on the log before us, and having re-baited the line, dropt it in again for another.
Now, while we were thus intent upon our sport, our attention was suddenly attracted by a ripple on the sea, just a few yards away from us.

Peterkin shouted to us to paddle in that direction, as he thought it was a big fish, and we might have a chance of catching it.

But Jack, instead of complying, said, in a deep, earnest tone of voice, which I never before heard him use,-- "Haul up your line, Peterkin; seize your paddle; quick,--it's a shark!" The horror with which we heard this may well be imagined, for it must be remembered that our legs were hanging down in the water, and we could not venture to pull them up without upsetting the log.

Peterkin instantly hauled up the line; and, grasping his paddle, exerted himself to the utmost, while we also did our best to make for shore.

But we were a good way off, and the log being, as I have before said, very heavy, moved but slowly through the water.