William was leaning on the rail, staring moodily at the water. What was on his mind, Mike didn't know. "I think Jake's coming back," Mike said, expecting William to move toward the diving platform on the stern.

William spat into the water. "Don't feel right out here today."

"That's because the wrong guy's diving, William. Don't know why he is."

William shrugged. "Clarence say you throw asson away."

"Asson?" Mike smiled. "What's that?"

"Papa Jacques's asson. His magic gourd."

"That rattle? You're damn right I did. He screwed up little Deenie's head, and she screwed up my kid's!"

"Clarence say he make lil' Cissy well."

Cissy was Clarence's youngest girl. "Good," said Mike. "How much did it cost him?"

"Papa Jacques, he don't take money. Takes forty dollars, Bahamian, grinds it up with pois congo, puts it on Cissy's head."

"I'll bet he ground it up." Forty dollars was about what Clarence earned in a week. "Anyway, I told Papa Jacques to leave Whiskey Cay a month ago. I find him around my place again, he's history."

"Yah, mon, but he don't go. He is still here." William nodded moodily. "Some people say Papa Jacques don' like you, you gwine be history, man."

They heard a shout from astern.

"Jake's up," said Mike. "Let's go."

William sauntered aft and stepped to the diving platform. Mike followed him, to help him lift Jake's tanks. Jake was treading water. He had ripped the mouthpiece from his mouth, and he tossed his face mask aboard.

"Man," he babbled, thrashing toward the platform. "Get me out! There's a great white shark down there!"

Mike moved to help him and froze, transfixed.

A shape rushed from the depths, rose ponderously over the stern of the barge, and rolled slowly to its side. He caught a glimpse of rows of gleaming ivory teeth.

He threw up a hand and recoiled, crashing against the air compressor. In a shower of spray he cowered there, while the massive snout crashed down on the afterdeck. The great jaws closed. There was the sound of rending metal, and three feet of one-inch stainless railing and a stanchion tore loose from the gunwale.

The shark sank back into the water, rolled, flicked a tail as tall as Mike, and disappeared in a swirl of foam.

For an instant Mike lay in shock. Then he forced himself astern. He and William yanked Jake from the water.

"You see that?" jabbered William. "You see that mother's mouf?" He grabbed Mike's shoulders and stared at him. "Why he don't take me or Jake, mon? Why he pass and go for you?"

Mike swallowed. His mouth was dry, and he felt half sick. "Maybe," he muttered, "he doesn't like dark meat."

Jake was shivering in the hot Bahama sun. Sweat was mixing with the water rolling down his ebony skin. He flipped his diving knife toward the barge's deckhouse. It stuck, quivering in the wood.