Saint Mary's Beacon

Our noble ship lay at anchor in the bay of Tangier, a fortified city in the extreme northwest point of Africa. The day had been extremely mild, with a gentle breeze sweeping in from the northward and westward, but toward the close of the afternoon the sea-breeze died away, and one of those sultry, oven-like atmospheric breathings came up from the great sunburnt Sahara.

Half an hour before sundown the captain gave the cheering order to the boatswain to call all the hands to go in swimming, and in less than five minutes the forms of our hardy tars were seen leaping from the gangways, the ports, the nettings, the bowsprits, and some of the more venturesome took their plunge from the arms or the lower yards.

One of the studding-sails had been lowered into the water, with its corners gusped from the main yard arm and the swinging boom, and into this most of the swimmers made their way. Among those who seemed to be enjoying the sport most were two of the boys, Tim Wallace and Fred Fairbanks, the latter of whom was the son of our old gunner, and in a laughing mood they started out from the studding-sail on a race. There was a loud, ringing shout of joy upon their lips as they put off and they darted through the water like fishes. The surface of the sea was as smooth as glass, though its bosom rose in long heavy swells that set in from the broad Atlantic.

The ship was moored with a long sweep upon both cables, and the buoy of the starboard anchor was far away on the starboard quarter where it rose and fell with a lazy swell like a drunken man. Towards this buoy the two lads made their way. Fred Fairbanks taking the lead; but when they were within a dozen fathoms of the buoy, Tim shot ahead and promised to win the race. The old gunner had watched the progress of his little son with a vast degree of pride, and when he saw him drooping behind he leaped upon the poop, and was just upon the point urging him on by a shout, when a cry reached him that made him start as though he had been struck by a cannon ball.

"A shark! A shark!" came from the captain of the forecastle, and at these terrible words the men who were in the water leaped and plunged toward the ship. Right abeam, at a distance of three or four cables' length, a sharp wake was seen in the water, where the black fin of the monster was visible. His course was for the boys! For a moment the poor gunner stood like one bereft of sense, but the next he shouted at the top of his voice for his boy to turn, the little fellow heard him not: stoutly the two swimmers strove for goal, all unconscious of the bloody death-spirit which hovered so near them. The merry laugh still rang out over the waters, and at length they both reached the buoy together.

Oh, what drops of agony started from the brow of our gunner! A boat had put off, but Fairbanks knew that it could not reach his child in season, for the shark was too near his intended victims: and every moment he expected to see it sink from sight—then he knew that all hope would be gone. At this moment a cry reached the ship which went through every heart like a stream of scorching fire—the boys had discovered their enemy!

That cry startled old Fairbanks to his senses, and quicker than thought he sprang to the quarter-deck. The guns were loaded and shotted fore and aft, and none knew their temper better than he. With a steady hand, made strong by a sudden hope, the old gunner seized a priming-wire and pricked the cartridge of one of the quarter guns; then he took from his pocket a percussion wafer and set it in its place, and set back the hammer of the patent lock. With a giant's strength the old man swayed the breech of the heavy gun to its bearing, and then, seizing the string of the lock, he stood back and watched for the next swell that should bring the shark within range. He had aimed the piece some distance ahead of his mark, but a single moment would settle his hopes or fears.

Every breath was hushed, and every heart in that old ship was painfully still. The boat was yet some distance from the boys, while the horrible sea monster was frightfully near. Suddenly the air was awoke by the roar of the heavy gun, and as the old man knew that his shot had gone, he sunk back upon the combings of the hatch, and buried his face in his hands, as if afraid to see the result of his own effort, for if he had failed he knew that his boy was lost!

For a moment after the report of the gun had died away upon the air there was dead silence; but as the impenetrable smoke arose from the surface of the water, there was a low murmur breaking from the lips of the men; that murmur grew louder and stronger, until it swelled to a joyous deafening shout. The old gunner sprang to his feet, and gazed off upon the water; and the first thing that met his view was the huge carcass of the shark, floating with its white belly uppermost—a mangled, lifeless mass.

In a few moments the boat had reached the daring swimmers, and half-dead from fright they were brought on board. The old man clasped his boy in his arms, and then overcome by the powerful excitement, he leaned back upon his gun for support.

I have seen men in all phases of excitement and suspense; but never had I seen three hundred human beings more overcome by thrilling emotion than in that startling moment when first we knew the effect of our gunner's shot.