“that if we go back and get some string, then—”
Something bumped the underside of the raft.
Hal and Robbie looked down in unison, then at each other.
“What was that?” Robbie asked nervously. “A rock? Is the water shallow here?”
Hal peered anxiously into the water, but saw no rocks sticking up. The surface of the ocean undulated like a sheet blowing on a clothes line, eerie and silent except where it slopped against the raft’s plastic drums. It didn’t
seem
shallow . . . but rocks could be lurking just below the surface. What if one ripped the floats apart? “We should head back,” Hal said. “Let’s plan this thing a little better and come out again.”
“Okay,” Robbie said, and now Hal detected a hint of relief in his voice.
They switched their grips on the shovels and paddled in the opposite direction. Again it took a second to get synchronized, and the raft began to turn.
“Stop!” Hal exclaimed. “I mean, don’t
stop
, but—we’ve got to keep this thing straight, otherwise we won’t know which direction to go in. Wait while I turn us back a little . . .”
“That’s too much,” Robbie said, dipping his shovel into the water and paddling against Hal’s strokes.
Hal ground his teeth together and tried to hold down his temper. “Let’s just row together and go straight. We must be turned about right by now. As long as we get back to the island we’ll be okay—anywhere will do. Then we can follow the shore until we get back to the docks.”
“Right,” Robbie said, nodding. “As long as we don’t row away from the island and miss it completely.”
Something bumped the underside of the raft again, and this time they felt the deck rise for a second. Hal glanced down and glimpsed a flash of white through the glass panel. But then something to the side caught his attention and he searched the water just beyond his paddle.
He gasped and pointed.
A gigantic milky white serpentine body slipped by just beneath the surface, fast and silent, dwarfing the feeble little raft Hal and Robbie cowered on.
“Th-the sea s-ser-pent,” Hal stammered.
Robbie brandished his shovel over his head as if batting at the monster might help. “We’re dead,” he moaned.
It seemed to take ages for the full length of the serpent to undulate past, its girth narrowing to the blunt tip of a snake-like tail as it went. It slid away under the surface and a current tugged at the raft, causing it to bounce up and down.
Hal gripped the shovel in one hand and scrabbled for a secure hold on the raft with the other. Every muscle in his body was taut. He was shivering hard, and his breath came in rasps. He felt powerless. What could they do? That thing could capsize them with a flick of its tail, or chomp them in one mouthful.
“We’ve gotta paddle,” he said. “Ready? Three, two, one, go.”
He began paddling, but Robbie was frozen in place, gripping the shovel over his head.
“Robbie, stop gawking and paddle!”
“Can’t.”
“Yes you can! I can’t do this on my own—”
Robbie mumbled something.
Hal frowned. “What? What did you say?”
“It’s coming back.”
Out of the fog came the monstrous snake, its enormous bulk slicing easily through the water toward them. Its head lifted slowly—three feet wide with glistening white scales the size of fists, long drooping fins that stuck out from behind its lower jaw, and yellow eyes as big as plates. The serpent stared right at them, unblinking, emotionless. Its mouth opened just a fraction, enough for a shining black forked tongue to slip out, quiver, and slip back in again.
Robbie began yelling. He dropped the shovel onto the deck and scrambled back, bumping into his friend. Hal woke from his temporary paralysis.
“Robbie, there’s nowhere to go—be careful or you’ll—”
Too late. As the raft bobbed to one side, Robbie’s shovel slipped off the deck and into the water with a tiny plop, gone forever.
But now the serpent was
Something bumped the underside of the raft.
Hal and Robbie looked down in unison, then at each other.
“What was that?” Robbie asked nervously. “A rock? Is the water shallow here?”
Hal peered anxiously into the water, but saw no rocks sticking up. The surface of the ocean undulated like a sheet blowing on a clothes line, eerie and silent except where it slopped against the raft’s plastic drums. It didn’t
seem
shallow . . . but rocks could be lurking just below the surface. What if one ripped the floats apart? “We should head back,” Hal said. “Let’s plan this thing a little better and come out again.”
“Okay,” Robbie said, and now Hal detected a hint of relief in his voice.
They switched their grips on the shovels and paddled in the opposite direction. Again it took a second to get synchronized, and the raft began to turn.
“Stop!” Hal exclaimed. “I mean, don’t
stop
, but—we’ve got to keep this thing straight, otherwise we won’t know which direction to go in. Wait while I turn us back a little . . .”
“That’s too much,” Robbie said, dipping his shovel into the water and paddling against Hal’s strokes.
Hal ground his teeth together and tried to hold down his temper. “Let’s just row together and go straight. We must be turned about right by now. As long as we get back to the island we’ll be okay—anywhere will do. Then we can follow the shore until we get back to the docks.”
“Right,” Robbie said, nodding. “As long as we don’t row away from the island and miss it completely.”
Something bumped the underside of the raft again, and this time they felt the deck rise for a second. Hal glanced down and glimpsed a flash of white through the glass panel. But then something to the side caught his attention and he searched the water just beyond his paddle.
He gasped and pointed.
A gigantic milky white serpentine body slipped by just beneath the surface, fast and silent, dwarfing the feeble little raft Hal and Robbie cowered on.
“Th-the sea s-ser-pent,” Hal stammered.
Robbie brandished his shovel over his head as if batting at the monster might help. “We’re dead,” he moaned.
It seemed to take ages for the full length of the serpent to undulate past, its girth narrowing to the blunt tip of a snake-like tail as it went. It slid away under the surface and a current tugged at the raft, causing it to bounce up and down.
Hal gripped the shovel in one hand and scrabbled for a secure hold on the raft with the other. Every muscle in his body was taut. He was shivering hard, and his breath came in rasps. He felt powerless. What could they do? That thing could capsize them with a flick of its tail, or chomp them in one mouthful.
“We’ve gotta paddle,” he said. “Ready? Three, two, one, go.”
He began paddling, but Robbie was frozen in place, gripping the shovel over his head.
“Robbie, stop gawking and paddle!”
“Can’t.”
“Yes you can! I can’t do this on my own—”
Robbie mumbled something.
Hal frowned. “What? What did you say?”
“It’s coming back.”
Out of the fog came the monstrous snake, its enormous bulk slicing easily through the water toward them. Its head lifted slowly—three feet wide with glistening white scales the size of fists, long drooping fins that stuck out from behind its lower jaw, and yellow eyes as big as plates. The serpent stared right at them, unblinking, emotionless. Its mouth opened just a fraction, enough for a shining black forked tongue to slip out, quiver, and slip back in again.
Robbie began yelling. He dropped the shovel onto the deck and scrambled back, bumping into his friend. Hal woke from his temporary paralysis.
“Robbie, there’s nowhere to go—be careful or you’ll—”
Too late. As the raft bobbed to one side, Robbie’s shovel slipped off the deck and into the water with a tiny plop, gone forever.
But now the serpent was
Similar Books
