Before we had been at sea two days, we heard of a most gallant act
that had been done by one in our midst. The mail-boats of the Imperial
Direct Line each carried from six to eight apprentices, young lads in
process of training as officers in the Merchant Service. The
apprentices on board the _Port Kingston_ had had a great deal of
hard work whilst the ship was loading her cargo of fruit at Port
Henderson previous to our voyage home, so the Captain granted them all
a holiday, lent them one of the ship's boats, provided them with
luncheon and fishing lines, and sent them out for a day's sailing and
fishing in Kingston Harbour.

They sailed and caught fish, and, as the afternoon wore on, began to
"rag," as boys will do. They ragged so effectually that they managed
to capsize the boat, and were, all of them, thrown into the water.

Curiously enough, three of the eight apprentices were unable to swim.
The senior apprentice, a boy named Robert Clinch, seventeen years old,
swam out, and brought back two of his young companions in safety to
the keel of the upturned boat. Clinch was just starting to bring in
the third lad, the youngest of them all, when there was a great swirl
in the water, the grey outline of a shark rose to the surface, turned
on his back, and dragged the little fellow down. Clinch, without one
instant's hesitation, dived under the shark and attacked him with his
bare fists. It was an immensely courageous thing to do, for where
there is one shark there will probably be many, and the boy knew that
he ran the risk of being torn to pieces at any minute. So rigorous was
his onslaught on the shark that the fish released his victim, though
not before he had bitten off both the little fellow's legs at the
thigh. Clinch swam back with the mangled body of his young friend to
the upturned boat, and managed to get him on to the keel, but the poor