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〃Let me get dressed and I'll walk you down；〃 he told her as he got to his feet； but she shook her head。
〃No need。 I be all right。 You ever want to see me again I'll be down by the tavern somewhere； but I figure to be leaving here soon。〃 As he approached her she reached out and touched his hand。 It was as cold and hard as stone。 She smiled again； showing teeth sharpened by chewing sugar cane； and then she was gone out the door and along High Street。 She headed for the dark village below； keeping her eyes away from the thing lying across the reef。 For a long while Moore stood in the doorway and watched her walk away； knowing she'd be okay but wishing all the while he'd gone with her just so that he could be with someone。 And then he couldn't see her anymore and he closed the door。
He felt weary suddenly； and after a while he turned off the lights and climbed the stairs in darkness。
On Kiss Bottom； surf surged in around the hulk； hammering at iron； foaming in and then back； again and again。 A dog howled in the village； and another began barking； brokenly； in answer。
There was a manta ray sailing across the moon。
The aged black fisherman could clearly see its lines； the ridges along its extended wings； the long； sweeping tail trailing after it。 It was a big one； he thought； plenty big enough bait for hungry snappers。 As he watched； the wide cloud changed； curled in upon itself； became the silver image of a flying fish reaching for a height its ocean brothers could only dream of。 Then the wings melted and it became a man's face with an open mouth。 He could see the wide eyes； the cheekbones； the point of a chin。 But there was fear in that face； and as he continued to observe the cloud； the look of the thing frightened him。 The mouth opened wider； wider； in the outcry of one who has seen a terrible vision but does not yet know what he has seen。 He felt the breeze knife through his bones。 The mouth； opened as wide as possible； suddenly split from the face and became a separate cloud； now it was no longer a face but something grotesque and unrecognizable； turning in on itself like a maddened beast。
Abruptly the fisherman turned his gaze away。
There was a sharp bark； then a subdued growling。
〃Hey！〃 said the old man。 〃Hey！ You leave them be！〃
The old man's terrier mutt； perched on top of the fishing skiff's wet…well； had been watching the bone…white squid as they darted and dived； their tentacles tangling together。 〃You put your nose in there； Coconut；〃 said the fisherman； 〃and one 'o them boys bite it off sure as I tells you！〃
The mutt scampered away from the wet…well and to the stern； where his master sat with one hand on the tiller of a small trolling motor。 〃I ought to throw you to the merrimaids；〃 the old man said； feigning disgust。
There were less than two hours until first light； and the fat squid that usually rose around Kiss Bottom at this time of the morning were nowhere in sight。 He had caught what he could； mesmerizing the fish with the beam of a flashlight and then scooping them out； twisting and coiled； with a net。 He could tell time by the rise of the squids； and in twenty years of foraging them from the reef that clock had never been off。 Where were they this morning？ He sat back in the stern； seeing the huge angled shape just ahead； hearing the soft thunder of the sea around it。
It was that bastard scaring the squid away。 Damned thing prob'ly rustin' into the sea； and the squids taste the rust and go back down for the sweeter depths。 He had seen the thing wedged onto the reef； and he'd marveled at its size。 He'd never seen a boat like that before； all tight and sealed shut。 How did the captain breathe； or any of the crew？ Damn； but it was a mystery！ His wife hadn't wanted him to go out this morning； but in all of twenty years only the storms had kept him from squidding。 No damned rusting shell was going to scare him off； he'd told her。 〃And besides；〃 he'd said； 〃the thing is dead。〃 〃No； no；〃 she'd told him； 〃you don't know nothin' about it。 I was here then。 You don't know 'cause you came after it was over and done。〃
Superstitions。 They was all the time eatin' at a woman； tryin' to get at a man too。 Not that he didn't listen hard to the winds and the tides； or believe in the power of Rev。 Boniface。 But some things…old things his father and grandfather had sworn by a long time ago…he refused to put his faith in。
The water hissed along the thing's spine as he neared it。 Damn thing got a nest of snakes in it； he thought。 He looked toward the towering bow； ran his gaze past the rise of the conning tower。 The boat was battered pretty bad； but no algae growths marked the iron。 That was plenty peculiar。 As he watched； a swell rolled across the stern leaving a trail of dull green phosphorescence and brown seaweed。 It was an underwater boat； his wife had told him。 Something bad and unnatural about it； she'd said。 How could it stay under and then e back up again？ He shook his head。 It was a mystery； one that was beyond him。 Coconut barked sharply again； stirring him from his thoughts。
Strands of weed； as long and brown as a woman's hair； rolled across the reef。 His skiff was jostled by swells； and he put a hand on each gunwale to steady himself。 He realized he was getting a little too close to the bommies； and he'd had a skiff peeled open before； so he turned his tiller to get away。 Across the reef the seaweed swirled； a dance of the morning tides； and the phosphorescence gleamed like liquid emeralds。
And then； as if from a distance； came a low grinding noise。
The old man's flesh crawled； beside him the dog jumped； yipped。
Silence。 The sea； the breezes whining around broken railings。
Coconut began to bark again。 〃Hush！ Hush； I said！〃 The old man reached down for his flashlight and snapped it on； pointing it into the water at the submarine's hull。
A rush of foam kept him from seeing anything； he moved the light toward the stern； his mouth suddenly gone dry。 Then the grinding noise returned； full force； and from the foam came a clump of coral and weed that looked like a decapitated head。 Water rolled in； hammering； pulling。 At first he didn't understand； but as he followed the beam of the light the realization came clear to him； and it clawed at his heart。 The boat had moved； just slightly； but it had moved。 It was sliding backward； grinding over the reef。 The currents were freeing it。
〃Great God！〃 he cried out； the hulk shuddered； and he almost dropped his light。 The grinding quieted； almost vanished； then picked up again： a hideous scream of iron ripping coral。 〃Hey！〃 the old man shouted toward the sleeping village。 They had to hear it。 They had to； the sleepin' fools！ 〃HEY！ HEY！〃 But now the grinding was too loud； it filled his brain and ears and mouth so he could neither shout out nor hear his own words。 When the skiff rose over the next swell he tripped over the dog； as he grabbed for the starboard gunwale the flashlight fell from his fingers and into the sea。 In blackness； he reached for the tiller。
But before he could grasp it； he was riveted in place。
His eyes； accustomed to the darkness now； saw the shadow