The NOAA ship was moving toward the Zodiac. People lined the rail. They were pointing and waving their hands.

The boat was on the verge of extricating itself from the sticky currents when a big sea broke over the blunt bow and they lost headway. Trout's jaw tightened. He cranked the throttle up as far as it would go and pointed the bow away from the cauldron. The motor revved to near-valve-popping levels. The boat lurched as if it had been given shock treatment. The Zodiac gained a yard or two before being snatched again by the powerful tentacles of current that were generated around the huge whirl.

A rumble issued from the bowels of the sea, the sound so over-powering that it drowned out the desperate roar of the straining motor. The air was filled with a great vibration as if hundreds of pipe organs were set on low end. Thick, milky mist issued from the hole in the water. Making the scene even more unreal was the laser show overhead. The dancing lights had changed in color from silver to blue and purple.

The boat scudded into a tightening spiral as it was dragged into the encircling belt of foam. There was no chance of escape. The Zodiac was lifted to the top of the roiling ridge of white water, now around six feet high, where it was buffeted and rocked with such violence that Gamay was almost thrown into the sea.

Trout released the wheel and lunged for Gamay. His strong fingers caught the fabric of her foul-weather jacket and he pulled her back into the boat. It was no longer safe to stand. They dropped to their hands and knees and grabbed onto a safety line attached to one of the inflatable-hull tubes.

The Zodiac was fully in the grip of the moving ridge of gleaming white water. As if the constant pitching and yawing weren't enough, the boat spun like a drunken ballet dancer.

The punishment continued as the boat was carried along the roiling ridge of foam. On one side was the sea. On the other, a great whirling funnel whose black walls sloped at a forty-five-degree angle. The sides of the whirlpool looked as hard as glass.

The boat teetered dangerously at the top of the foaming wall and then slid into the great whirling funnel of black water. The fierce current whipping around the wall of the whirlpool surpassed the pull of gravity. The boat's descent ended about twenty feet below the shiny rim of froth. Caught by the centrifugal force like the ball in a spinning roulette wheel, the boat began to go round and round the funnel.

The Zodiac hung at a forty-five-degree angle, its flat bottom parallel to the slanting surface, with the port side lower than starboard. The bow pointed forward as if the boat were still moving under its own power.