WONDERS OF THE DEEP 91 



Then the other sharks drew nearer, and for two 

 hours there was a score of them within striking 

 distance. The time had come for the sensational 

 picture. 



Meantime, half crouching on the deck of the 

 barge stood a native, his black, oil-smeared body 

 glistening in the sun, his white teeth shut on a 

 wicked-looking knife. At a word he was ready to 

 dive into the sea and take his chances with one 

 of the brutes below, trusting to his quickness and 

 skill to save him. This man was the best diver 

 in Nassau; it was said that he had once gone 

 down to a depth of eighty feet, and he boasted 

 that he was not afraid of any shark that inhabits 

 the deep. 



With fascinated interest, the Americans watched 

 the native while he watched the sharks. The 

 native's task was to time his spring so cunningly 

 that he would shoot down into the sea just in 

 time to meet one of those big fellows in its hungry 

 rush, at a point within range of the moving pic- 

 ture machine, the angle of which is only twenty 

 degrees, and within this angle he must have his 

 death struggle with the beast and kill it. This 

 was the native's commission, a very tempting piece 

 of work for any man. 



They waited. A shark circled closer to the bait, 

 then swerved away sharply, and then — suddenly the 

 native lifted his hands and leaped head first into the 

 transparent waters, straight out for the murderous 

 fellow who was making direct for the carcase of the 



