He happened to come near my end of the boat, and I shot at him; but whether I hit the mark or not I do not know.

Anyhow, he dived, and while we were all looking over the side for him to appear, our craft was hit a tremendous whack by something under the stern--so hard that it upset the bosun, who was standing there peacefully sculling.
"Our friend was getting a little too strenuous; but he dived before I could shoot again, and came up fifty yards off.

Then I hit him with a bullet, and he disappeared.

Maybe we were not an anxious crowd in that boat for the next few minutes, as we knew that that submarine earthquake was due for another blow-up at any instant--but when and where! We stared at the surface of the water, to see if possible from what direction the next attack would come.
"One more such scrimmage as the last and we would be all in--both literally and metaphorically; for he had put a big hole through the bottom of the boat, and as she had a double bottom we could not check the leak, and one man had to bale rapidly.

We always carried along a lot of old coats to stop holes in the boats, but in this case they might as well have been pocket handkerchiefs.
"Suddenly an Eskimo who was looking over the side yelled: '_Kingeemutt! Kingeemutt!_' ('Back her! Back her!') But the words were hardly out of his mouth when--smash! rip! bang!--the stern of the boat rose under the shock, the bosun was nearly knocked overboard, an Eskimo catching him on the fly, and a hole I could have put both fists through suddenly appeared within an inch of his foot, just above the water line.
"I looked over the gunwale.