away from his high-flown speech. "I bet that's a shark kicking up
all that phosphorescence."

"He swims in fire, like the--like the----"

"Sprat!"

"Like Apollo, you lean-minded insect. With every sweep of his tail
he sends out diadems of liquid gems, and his broad nose shovels fire
before him like a----"

"Stoker. Exactly; and if we had a lump of fat pork and a hook we
could drag him up and collect a basketful of jewels. I dare say he
is leering up at us with a green and longing eye."

"Did you hear that cry?" asked Venning, suddenly.

"No." "Was it the shark whispering, do you think?"

"Shut up and listen."

They leant over the rail and peered into the night. The drowsy air
throbbed to the measured beat of the engines, but they scarcely
noticed that accustomed sound.

"There it is again."

"Yes. I heard something like a sheep bleating."

"Would a sheep be swimming out here, you ass?"