word. "I fancy the captain may have some. He's quite a friend of mine, I'll speak to him."
"Get me one, too, if you please," called Ned as the gentleman hurried away.
"And I'll also try my luck at potting a shark. Bless my gunpowder if I won't!" said Mr. Damon.
The captain did have several rifles in his stateroom. and he loaned them to Mr. Sander. They were magazine weapons, firing sixteen shots each, but they were not of as high power as those Tom had packed away.
"Now we'll make those sharks sing a different tune, if sharks sing!" cried the young inventor.
"Yes, we're coming to the rescue of the porpoises!" added Ned.
The passengers crowded up to witness the marksmanship, and soon the lads and Mr. Damon were at it.
It was no easy matter to hit a shark, as the big, ugly fish were only seen for a moment in their mad rushes after the porpoises, but both Tom and Ned were good shots and they made the bullets tell.
"There, I hit one big fellow!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my bull's eye, but I plugged him right in the mouth, I think."
"I hope you knocked out some of his teeth," cried Ned.
