graceful figure of hair flamed by the sun and long
golden legs, she dived into the water. Down she plunged and then her legs
moving in a scissorlike fashion, she propelled herself to the surface. The
water was a silken delight after the warmth of the sun, and for several minutes
she swam in lazy circles, waiting for Allen to appear at the top of the rock.
She
had no feeling of impending danger, just sheer enjoyment at the caress of the
satin seawater. Allen appeared, and floating on her back, she kicked a high
spume of water in his direction, laughing. "Join me—it's like
heaven."
Allen,
some fifteen to twenty feet above her, grinned down at her, appreciating the
enticing picture she made. Then he stiffened and in a voice harsh with urgency
and fear he shouted, "Nick! Below you!"
Instantly
stopping her antics, she let her feet sink down and stared into the water. And
there it was, circling, not fifteen feet below her—the long deadly shape that
every seaman dreads—shark!
A
chill slithered down her spine and terror made her clumsy as she began with
awkward strokes to swim the one hundred yards that separated her from safety.
The beach was her only hope, for the steep sides of the lagoon offered no
chance of escape from the water. Fervently she sent up a little prayer that the
shark was only curious, and as her first spurt of terror abated she swam with
her usual strong and swift motions. But the shark was more than just curious.
There was something so frightening and threatening in the creature's
increasingly narrow circles that Nicole sensed it was only a matter of minutes
before the monster struck at her long, flashing legs.
As
if undecided, the shark glided to a position some yards in front of her,
effectively, whether by accident or design, cutting off her retreat to the
beach. Nicole stopped her race for safety, treading water and swallowing a lump
of fear as she watched the shark swim back and forth some twelve feet in front
of her.
She
cast an uncertain glance back at Allen. He still stood on the rocky
outcropping, his own face as white as hers, his eyes intent on the sleek,
menacing creature now swimming not ten feet in front of her.
His
voice encouraging, Allen shouted, "Keep swimming, Nick. For God's sake
don't start to panic and flounder around—that will only disturb it. Keep
swimming!"
Swallowing
a mouthful of pure fear and grimly telling herself that her life was not going
to end in a shark's belly, she followed Allen's advice. But she saw that the
shark was once again directly under her, and she watched with glazed eyes as it
drifted slowly upward toward her defenseless body, the jaws opening, the rows
of teeth like gleaming saw blades. She knew she was indeed going to die—now!
Dimly
she heard the splash of Allen's body as he entered the water, the noise and
vibration abruptly startling the shark, for it stopped its deadly attack and
darted away as if frightened. Seeing Allen's head breaking the surface of the
water, she cried, "What the devil are you doing? Now we're both in
danger."
"I
suppose," he yelled grimly, "I was just to stand there and watch you
be torn apart. Shut up, Nick, and start swimming."
The
shark, never having gone very far, returned, this time nearer to Allen. He kept
a wary eye on the beast before him and firmly gripped the handle of the
razor-sharp seaman's blade. "Get going, Nick, goddamnit!" he shouted
over his shoulder.
"But
you!" she argued, knowing he was right, but unable to leave him.
"And
what the devil can you do! If you would kindly get the hell out of here, I
could do the same! Now is not the time for you to get heroic!"
She
stifled a hysterical giggle and wondered what he would call his actions. Then
with a speed that was prompted as much from the fear that any second she would
feel those saw-toothed jaws tearing into her body, as the knowledge that Allen
would not attempt the shore until she was safe, she hurtled to the beach.
Splashing into ankle-deep
golden legs, she dived into the water. Down she plunged and then her legs
moving in a scissorlike fashion, she propelled herself to the surface. The
water was a silken delight after the warmth of the sun, and for several minutes
she swam in lazy circles, waiting for Allen to appear at the top of the rock.
She
had no feeling of impending danger, just sheer enjoyment at the caress of the
satin seawater. Allen appeared, and floating on her back, she kicked a high
spume of water in his direction, laughing. "Join me—it's like
heaven."
Allen,
some fifteen to twenty feet above her, grinned down at her, appreciating the
enticing picture she made. Then he stiffened and in a voice harsh with urgency
and fear he shouted, "Nick! Below you!"
Instantly
stopping her antics, she let her feet sink down and stared into the water. And
there it was, circling, not fifteen feet below her—the long deadly shape that
every seaman dreads—shark!
A
chill slithered down her spine and terror made her clumsy as she began with
awkward strokes to swim the one hundred yards that separated her from safety.
The beach was her only hope, for the steep sides of the lagoon offered no
chance of escape from the water. Fervently she sent up a little prayer that the
shark was only curious, and as her first spurt of terror abated she swam with
her usual strong and swift motions. But the shark was more than just curious.
There was something so frightening and threatening in the creature's
increasingly narrow circles that Nicole sensed it was only a matter of minutes
before the monster struck at her long, flashing legs.
As
if undecided, the shark glided to a position some yards in front of her,
effectively, whether by accident or design, cutting off her retreat to the
beach. Nicole stopped her race for safety, treading water and swallowing a lump
of fear as she watched the shark swim back and forth some twelve feet in front
of her.
She
cast an uncertain glance back at Allen. He still stood on the rocky
outcropping, his own face as white as hers, his eyes intent on the sleek,
menacing creature now swimming not ten feet in front of her.
His
voice encouraging, Allen shouted, "Keep swimming, Nick. For God's sake
don't start to panic and flounder around—that will only disturb it. Keep
swimming!"
Swallowing
a mouthful of pure fear and grimly telling herself that her life was not going
to end in a shark's belly, she followed Allen's advice. But she saw that the
shark was once again directly under her, and she watched with glazed eyes as it
drifted slowly upward toward her defenseless body, the jaws opening, the rows
of teeth like gleaming saw blades. She knew she was indeed going to die—now!
Dimly
she heard the splash of Allen's body as he entered the water, the noise and
vibration abruptly startling the shark, for it stopped its deadly attack and
darted away as if frightened. Seeing Allen's head breaking the surface of the
water, she cried, "What the devil are you doing? Now we're both in
danger."
"I
suppose," he yelled grimly, "I was just to stand there and watch you
be torn apart. Shut up, Nick, and start swimming."
The
shark, never having gone very far, returned, this time nearer to Allen. He kept
a wary eye on the beast before him and firmly gripped the handle of the
razor-sharp seaman's blade. "Get going, Nick, goddamnit!" he shouted
over his shoulder.
"But
you!" she argued, knowing he was right, but unable to leave him.
"And
what the devil can you do! If you would kindly get the hell out of here, I
could do the same! Now is not the time for you to get heroic!"
She
stifled a hysterical giggle and wondered what he would call his actions. Then
with a speed that was prompted as much from the fear that any second she would
feel those saw-toothed jaws tearing into her body, as the knowledge that Allen
would not attempt the shore until she was safe, she hurtled to the beach.
Splashing into ankle-deep
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