He clubbed desperately at what he could only feel and hear and he felt something seize the club and it was gone.
He jerked the tiller free from the rudder and beat and chopped with it, holding it in both hands and driving it down again and again.
But they were up to the bow now and driving in one after the other and together, tearing off the pieces of meat that showed glowing below the sea as they turned to come once more.
One came, finally, against the head itself and he knew that it was over.
He swung the tiller across the shark's head where the jaws were caught in the heaviness of the fish's head which would not tear.
He swung it once and twice and again.
He heard the tiller break and he lunged at the shark with the splintered butt.
He felt it go in and knowing it was sharp he drove it in again.
The shark let go and rolled away.
That was the last shark of the pack that came.