- end_line
- 5411
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:18.535Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 5386
- text
- boat! How they wished they were in it, the braggarts! And how they all
tingled with fear!
For, now here, now there, is heard a terrific rushing sound under
water, betokening the onslaught of the dread fish of prey, that with
spear ever in rest, charges in upon the out-skirts of the shoal,
transfixing the fish on his weapon. Re-treating and shaking them off,
the Chevalier devours them; then returns to the charge.
Hugging the boat to desperation, the poor fish fairly crowded
themselves up to the surface, and floundered upon each other, as men
are lifted off their feet in a mob. They clung to us thus, out of a
fancied security in our presence. Knowing this, we felt no little alarm
for ourselves, dreading lest the Chevalier might despise our boat, full
as much as his prey; and in pursuing the fish, run through the poor
Chamois with a lunge. A jacket, rolled up, was kept in readiness to be
thrust into the first opening made; while as the thousand fins audibly
patted against our slender planks, we felt nervously enough; as if
treading upon thin, crackling ice.
At length, to our no small delight, the enemy swam away; and again by
our side merrily paddled our escort; ten times merrier than ever.
- title
- Chunk 3