“I don’t think we better go too far away, do you?” she asked. “That turtle will take us a long way before we get him,” I answered. “If you are afraid, we will go back.” She blushed a trifle at this. “We’ll not go back until you show us whether you are able to get him or not,” she said, with some spirit. That settled it. We would get him if there was any show. I liked the spirit of the girl. Brown said nothing. “Aye tank dat’s him, sur, right over dere t’ starboard,” said the Swede pulling the stroke oar. The head of the turtle rose slowly above the surface and remained there. We stopped the boat, and waited for him to get quiet before starting to creep upon him. Then, with great caution, we sent the craft drifting slowly toward him, the oars making no noise. I held the iron ready, and waited until we were within a couple of fathoms. Then I plunged the weapon through his forward flipper, and it toggled fast. We had him. But he was a determined monster, and he weighed nearly five hundred pounds. He started off across the ocean, and, in spite of all our efforts, we could not stop him. Hauling the line short, we poked him and jabbed him with the boat-hook, but he heeded this very little, keeping his head well down and drawn in out of the way. All the time he swam vigorously with his flippers, and we found that we were gradually getting a long way from the ship. “If we only had something to kill him with,” said Brown. “Aye tank I do it, den,” said the Swede, who had been most interested in the affair; “I catch ’em in de old country--so.” He drew his sheath-knife and lashed it firmly upon the butt-end of the boat-hook. Then he went forward and leaned over the bow, while we hauled the boat as close to the turtle as we could. Watching his chance, the sailor made a lunge, and drove his blade through the creature’s neck. This had the effect of slowing down his efforts, although it far from finished him. Wounded and harassed as he now was, we gained upon him, and in ten minutes had him landed safely in the bottom of the boat, although he almost swamped the craft in his final struggles. “He’s big and ugly enough for anything,” said Miss Waters. “Do you mean to eat the monster?” “He will make excellent steak for all hands,” I answered. “However, if you don’t like him, we might swap some of him for a piece of fresh pork. They have pigs aboard the _Countess of Warwick_, and Garnett told me they would probably kill one to-day. What do you say, shall we go aboard of her?” “By all means. I would like nothing better,” she answered.