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And then there was a high； piercing noise that made the mander whirl around。 His eyes widened。 The noise； ing from the midst of the black smoke； rose until it became a metallic shriek。 From the open tower hatch the exec's black…bearded face emerged； his mouth a silent O。 At once the mander understood。 A battle…station siren。 A subchaser； ing up fast on their stern。 He roared into the voice tube； 〃CRASH DIVE！ CRASH DIVE！〃 even as the U…boat's alarm bells shrilled below。 Then a second shrieking siren： a second subchaser joining the first。 Both of them roaring full…speed； bearing down on the U…boat。 The exec dropped through the hatchway； and the mander peered anxiously out across the bulwark。 His sailors had the preserver and were frantically making their way through the deepening black troughs。
A bright circular light hit the sea just across the U…boat's bow； and now the sea vibrated with the noise of the subchasers' engines。 With a muffled thud a geyser of water rose up to starboard of the conning tower； followed by an explosion that almost tore through the eardrums。 The sea heaved around them。
The mander looked into the spotlight； his eyes aching from its brightness； his teeth clenched。 Schiller and Drexil would not make the bridge in time。 Without a second glance； he threw himself into the yawning hatch and sealed the lid shut over his head。
Like a huge reptilian beast； the great gleaming U…boat slid without hesitation into the depths。 The two sailors； floundering in rising water； felt iron and wood drop away beneath their feet。 They clutched at a railing； screaming out； focused in the eye of the light。
〃THE RING！〃 Schiller shouted to his mate。 〃HOLD ON TO IT！〃
But then a churn of white water tore it from Drexil's grasp； and it skittered away into the flames。 Schiller opened his mouth to cry out； seeing the conning tower sink away； passing him like a descending monster's fin； but salt water streamed into his throat and he almost choked。 He kicked forward； trying to grasp hold of the periscope tower； but as he did his leg slammed against something； and he felt himself being pulled down。 He jerked at the leg； jerked again； it was useless。 Something had caught his ankle and was pulling him after the boat。 The sea blinded him； closing over his head。 Get free！ he heard himself shriek。 Get free！ The currents enveloped him； carrying him down。 He cried out； air bursting from between his teeth； and wrenched at the leg。 It came free at last； but there was a sharp cracking noise and pain almost overcame him。 He fought his way to the surface。 Stroke！ the mind manded the failing body。 Stroke！
Schiller found himself amidst a maelstrom of noise and foaming sea。 The sky was filled with the smell of cordite and the spinning red and green ets of flares。 Shells were dropping all around him； hammering at his brain； and through the nightmare he grasped on to an empty crate and wrapped both arms around it。
When Schiller cleared his eyes he saw Drexil's head bobbing only a few yards away。 He cried out； 〃DREXIL！ HOLD ON！〃 and began swimming； his leg a useless appendage。 In another moment he realized he was weak and growing weaker； that he could not tread water； and land was too distant。 There was something stringy； like dark clumps of jellyfish； in the waves。 Gouts of blood。 Intestines。 Brains。 Bodies torn to pieces。 The offal of war。 He reached Drexil and it was only when he took the man's shoulder that he realized this man had black hair； and Drexil's had been red。
The corpse； floating in a tattered life jacket； had no face。
White teeth grinned from a pulp of tissues and membranes and nerve fibers。 Schiller shouted hysterically and pulled his hands back as if they had been contaminated。 He began swimming into the green…glowing ocean； the fires still burning around him； but he was swimming without direction。 Ahead was a solid plain of flame； and in the midst of the flame he could see the blackened； shriveled corpses； whirling around and around as if they were spinning above a gigantic whirlpool。 He could feel the power of the water over the freighter wrenching at him。 He tried to move away from it； but the sea had him and was pulling him down； and he couldn't swim anymore。 He wondered where Drexil was and if there were a true peace in death。 He lowered his head and opened his mouth to fill his lungs before he went down。
Hands grasped him。 Pulled him up from the surface。 Threw him down into the bottom of a boat。 Men standing over him； peering down。
Schiller blinked； could not make out their faces； could not move his body。
〃A live one；〃 someone said； in English。
One
SOMETHING LAY AHEAD； dark against the thick blue…green swells。
David Moore reached back and cut the sputtering motor。 The sharp； hot sun lay across his bare back and shoulders like a bright tropical jacket。 The battered fisherman's skiff slowed； rolled lazily across the next swell； and Moore turned the tiller so whatever was in the water would e up on his starboard side。 Squinting from the glare of sun off sea； he reached over the gunwale and brought the object up。
It was another piece of timber…God only knew where it had drifted or been torn from。 It was a new piece； though； not yet gnarled and aged by the salt water； and he placed it in the bottom of the boat to examine it。 On one side there were the remnants of red…painted letters against a white background。 An S and an A。 Salty？ Sally？ Samantha？ It was evidently a shard of a boat's transom； perhaps one of the Coquina boats； perhaps one that had drifted from a long way off。 He knew the names of most of the island's fishing fleet： Jolly Mack； Kinkee； Blue Lady； Lucy J。 Leen； Gallant； a dozen others。 This boat had probably been destroyed in some distant harbor or maybe it was one of the unfortunates caught in the teeth of the tropical storm that had screamed across the island three days previously。 Some fisherman might have lost his life clinging to this boat； Moore thought； staring at the plank。 He didn't want to think about that。 It brought up too many bad memories。
He started the motor again and swung the tiller so that the skiff's prow was aimed at a point directly into the opening of Kiss Bottom Reef some forty yards ahead。 The sea was still fairly rough； 〃somewhat jumpin'〃 as the Caribbean fishermen said； and as he neared the reef passage the swells struck hard against the hull。 There was debris all around： more splintered timbers； driftwood that might be worth salvaging； tree branches； roof tiles； even a rusted tin placard that read COLA； BEER； WINE。 He had seen it ripped off the front of the Landfall Tavern from his hotel terrace。 The sign had spun high across the island roofs and had been tossed in a wild； rain…swept spiral into the sea。 As Moore passed through the channel he could see the ragged edges of the reef； stubbled with brown and green coral growths； just grazing the surface。 A lot of boats had been torn open by those treacherous devil's…horns； and had had to be dragged off to be patched up at the island's boatyard or to die in deeper water。 Outside the reef were two 〃clangers；〃 brightly painted orange buoys that banged and ra