He and William lugged four of them up, started their one-lunger generator, and put them on charge. He started broadcasting for Mike every few minutes. Even if he was away from the sub, he should hear Jake paging him.

No answer. There was nothing to do but wait, or dive himself and see what was going on.

He'd sworn after his last dive that he'd never go down again. He doubted if he could get William to try, either, after the previous day's shark attack.

Well, it was 1:55 P.M. He gave himself five minutes. When the ship's clock on the deckhouse struck four bells, he'd hit the water.

Slowly and reluctantly he gathered his mask and flippers and began to saddle up his tanks.

The breeze through the cut was a cool one, but he was sweating like a pig.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mike crouched ten fathoms below the surface in the purser's office, by the door. He breathed as slowly as he could, to husband the air in his tanks. He pushed the door open a few inches. He winced as it squawked, and he held it against the current.

Across the grand entrance salon he sensed motion. The current had washed the torpedo hole free, and the shark was nosing in. There was a sudden scraping, like a boot sole being dragged across a granite rock, and a light gray shape filled the hole.

All at once the shark was in the wreck. The enormous salon and the oaken spiral staircase seemed suddenly half its size. The flashing, golden butterfly fish were instantly gone. An emerald parrot fish flicked by, heading topside. The shark and Mike were the only living beings where thousands had swum a few short moments past.

The shark cruised fore and aft, rising to the top of the spiral staircase, then drifting slowly down. Mike tried to hush his breathing in the regulator, above all to still the squeaking of the door.

His mind went back to Amity long ago, to his first ocean dive in the cherished diving class. He had overcome his stomach cramps and sneaked out of the house.

They were suited up, en route to sea on their instructor's boat Aqua Queen—Larry Vaughan, the mayor's son; Andy Nichols, scared to death and as fat as a sausage in his wet suit; all the rest, his classmates and his friends.

Their instructor, Tom Andrews, a bearded, potbellied god who had dived everywhere on earth, was lecturing from the helm, and the subject was man-eaters.