his escape.  Mulford now paused to take breath, and to consider what ought to be done.  On the spot where he stood he was quite safe, though ancle-deep in the sea, the shallow water extending to a considerable distance on all sides of him, with the single exception of the channel in his front.  He stood on the very verge of that channel, and could see in the pellucid element before him, that it was deep enough to float a vessel of some size.

To venture into the midst of twenty sharks required desperation, and Harry was not yet reduced to that.  He had been so busy in making his way to the point where he stood as to have no leisure to look for the wreck; but he now turned his eyes in quest of that all-interesting object.  He saw the shawl fluttering in the breeze, and that was all he could see.  Tier had contrived to keep it flying as a signal where he was to be found, but the hull of the schooner had sunk so low in the water that they who were seated on its keel were not visible even at the short distance which now separated them from Mulford.  Encouraged by this signal, and animated by the revived hope of still saving his companions, Harry turned toward the channel, half inclined to face every danger rather than to wait any longer.  At that moment the fins were all gliding along the channel from him, and in the same direction.  Some object drew the sharks away in a body, and the young mate let himself easily into the water, and swam as noiselessly as he could toward the boat.

It was a fearful trial, but Mulford felt that everything depended on his success.  Stimulated by his motive, and strengthened by the food and water taken an hour before, never had he shown so much skill and power in the water.  In an incredibly short period he was half-way across the channel, still swimming strong and unharmed.  A few strokes more sent him so near the boat that hope took full possession of his soul, and he shouted in exultation.  That indiscreet but natural cry, uttered so near the surface of the sea, turned every shark upon him, as the pack springs at the fox in view.  Mulford was conscious of the folly of his cry the instant it escaped him, and involuntarily he turned his head to note the effect on his enemies.  Every fin was gliding toward him—­a dark array of swift and furious foes.  Ten thousand bayonets, levelled in their line, could not have been one-half as terrible, and the efforts of the young man became nearly frantic.  But strong as he was, and ready in the element, what is the movement of a man in the water compared to that of a vigorous and voracious fish?  Mulford could see those fins coming on like a tempest, and he had just given up all hope, and was feeling his flesh creep with terror, when his foot hit the rock.  Giving himself an onward plunge, he threw his body upward toward the boat, and into so much shoaler water, at least a dozen feet by that single effort.  Recovering his legs as soon as possible, he turned to look behind him.