In a sheltered nook among the rocks below the fort,
where the natives were always in the habit of bathing, a party of
soldiers of the regiment then in garrison went down one sultry
afternoon for a swim. It was a lovely spot for bathing; the
water was blue, clear and calm, as the reef that stretched far
out to sea served as a breakwater to the heavy surf, and
preserved the inner water as smooth as a lake. Here were a fine
lot of English soldiers stripped to bathe; and although the ruddy
hue of British health had long since departed in the languid
climate of the East, nevertheless their spirits were as high as
those of Englishmen usually are, no matter where or under what
circumstances. However, one after the other took a run, and then
a "header" off the rocks into the deep blue water beneath. In
the long line of bathers was a fine lad of fifteen, the son of
one of the sergeants of the regiment; and with the emulation of
his age he ranked himself among the men, and on arriving at the
edge he plunged head-foremost into the water and disappeared. A
crowd of men were on the margin watching the bathing; the boy
rose to the surface within a few feet of them, but as he shook
the water from his hair, a cloudy shadow seemed to rise from the
deep beneath him, and in another moment the distinct outline of a
large shark was visible as his white belly flashed below.
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