Moran was looking over Wilbur's shoulder. "He's as good as
caught," she muttered; "once let them get sight of meat, and--
Steady now!" The shark moved forward. Suddenly, with a long, easy
roll, he turned completely upon his back. His white belly flashed
like silver in the water--the bait disappeared.

"You've got him!" shouted Moran.

The rope slid through Wilbur's palms, burning the skin as the huge
sea-wolf sounded. Moran laid hold. The heavy, sullen wrenching
from below twitched and swayed their bodies and threw them against
each other. Her bare, cool arm was pressed close over his
knuckles.

"Heave!" she cried, laughing with the excitement of the moment.
"Heave all!"--she began the chant of sailors hauling at the ropes.
Together, and bracing their feet against the schooner's rail, they
fought out the fight with the great fish. In a swirl of lather
the head and shoulders came above the surface, the flukes churning
the water till it boiled like the wake of a screw steamship. But
as soon as these great fins were clear of the surface the shark
fell quiet and helpless.

Charlie came up with the cutting-in spade, and as the fish hung
still over the side, cut him open from neck to belly with a single
movement. Another Chinaman stood by with a long-handled gaff,
hooked out the purple-black liver, brought it over the side, and
dropped it into one of the deck-tubs. The shark thrashed and
writhed, his flukes quivering and his gills distended. Wilbur