"We need a flame," MacDonald called out. I heard flints scrapin' against the cave walls behind me, an' then a spark caught fabric, an' we had light.

Sir Michael's wounds were fatal, an' even MacDonald's whisky couldnae comfort oor fallen comrade. I have seen many men die o' battle wounds, but none in so much agony. The beast had crushed Michael's internals, an' his insides were burstin' forth frae his mooth like air frae a bellows, makin' it impossible tae swallow. Blood gushed frae a half-ring of teeth holes, each as big as a man's fist.

We held him doon until he died. MacDonald offered last rites, an' then we lowered his body into the water, an' watched it swept away.

MacDonald divided us after that, three men on the gate, three at sentry, the remainin' two tae rest. Long hours have passed, an' it's noo my turn tae sleep. My body is heavy frae this terrible day, but my mind refuses rest, for now I have seen the De'il—his brood is close, an' I am too feart tae close my eyes.

I was standing at the shore near the mouth of the Altsigh Burn, watching to see whether any trout were rising when I saw this extraordinary sight. It was the monster's head and neck, less than eight meters from me and it was without any doubt in the act of swallowing food! It opened and closed its mouth several times quite quickly and then kept tossing its head backwards in the same manner as a cormorant does after it's devoured a fish!

After two minutes, it put its head down and a hump and tail came into sight. It submerged, then surfaced again, farther away. I saw no limbs or flippers, but the skin was slick, dark in color, paling along the belly. I'd guess it was at least six meters [19.68 feet] long.

—JOHN MACLEAN, INVERMORISTON, JUNE 1937

Chapter 15

Inverness, Scottish Highlands
Scotland

True MacDonald arrived early the next morning, bundles of newspapers tucked under each of his burly arms. He pushed my breakfast cart away from my cell door, then shoved a stack of papers in between the iron bars. "Wake up, Zack, there's work to be done."

I pinched sleep from my eyes, then rolled over in bed to the smell of powdered eggs and bad aftershave. "Aren't you a little old to be working a paper route?"

"No' when my best mate's the toast o' Scotland." He handed me an Inverness Courier. "Go on, take a' look at this."

It was hard to tell which was the more shocking, the photo of me standing on the witness chair, exposing part of my buttocks, or the story's headline.

RENOWNED MARINE BIOLOGIST SURVIVED NESSIE ATTACK

TESTIMONY EXPECTED TO LAUNCH LARGEST SEARCH OF LOCH NESS IN SCOTLAND'S HISTORY.