"Yes, sir, that's quite right; for if we didn't he'd sink, and all the other sharks would begin feeding on him and wouldn't bite any more at our bait. Then we get the hook ready, and down it goes again, while the sea-birds get a good feast of shark instead of the fish." "All that to get only the liver?" said Steve. "Yes, sir; but then the livers are very large, and from some they get quite a barrel of oil, only that's from the very large sharks." "What do you bait with?" said Steve. "Pieces of shark blubber, sir." "And isn't the flesh good for eating?" "Poor people eat it sometimes, sir, for it's nice and white; but we sailors never care for it. It's fine fishing, though, for you get your hold full of the livers, and take them back to port to be boiled down. Barrel of oil's worth as much as seven pounds, sir." "What do they use it for, lamps or machinery?" The Norseman stared. "I thought you knew, sir. It's a very fine, tasteless oil, and supposed to be very good for sick people. They make cod-liver oil of it." Captain Marsham burst into a hearty fit of laughter at the puzzlement and chagrin in his friend's countenance. "Stop a moment!" cried the doctor angrily. "Do you mean to tell me that this shark oil is used for--I mean, is sold for cod-liver oil?" "Yes, sir, I believe so," said the Norwegian. "Disgusting! Shameful!" cried the doctor. "What a miserable piece of trickery! The people who do it ought to be exposed." "Nonsense!" said the captain. "As Jakobsen says, it is very good for sick people. Why, my dear sir, the good effects of cod-liver oil do not depend upon its being extracted from a cod, but upon its being a rich fish oil, strongly impregnated with the peculiar salts, or whatever you call them, found in sea water. I daresay the oil of any fish liver would be as good." "And quite as nasty," suggested Steve. "Right, my lad, quite as nasty, and would do for doctors to trim the wick of the lamp of life when it is burning low." "Humph! perhaps you are right," said the doctor thoughtfully. "Can't we have some shark-fishing, Jakobsen?" cried Steve eagerly. "Why, you don't want your lamp trimmed, Steve?" said the captain. "No, sir; but Mr Handscombe might like some of the oil," replied Steve, with a laughing look at the frowning doctor, who was evidently thinking deeply. "Eh? No, my lad, I don't want any. But I've been thinking that perhaps this shark oil may be good." "Couldn't catch sharks here, sir, unless we found a bank." "Wait a little longer, Steve," said the captain, "and I daresay we shall find you something better than fishing for sharks." CHAPTER FOURTEEN. THE LAND OF PEAKS. "Here, Steve! Hi, my lad, wake up!" "Eh? Yes! What is it, whales?" cried the boy, hurrying into his clothes.