The thinking, feeling apparatus of Bond was no longer part of his body. The stinking, bleeding, black scarecrow moved its arms and legs quite automatically. He stood up and took several slow deep breaths, ran his hands through his salt-and sweat-matted hair, rubbed them harshly up and down his face and then down the tattered sides of his black jeans. He reached back ana felt the handle of the knife. There was one hope, only oneīond examined the soles of his feet and his hands. Now the eyes and the great triangular beak were right out of the water and the beak was reaching up for his feet. He could even feel his spine being stretched. Bond was being pulled down, inch by inch. The eyes were glaring up at him, redly, venomously, and the forest of feeding arms was at his feet and legs, tearing the cotton fabric away and flailing back. Now the head of the squid had broken the surface and the sea was being thrashed into foam by the great heaving mantle round it. There were iron ship-noises and the sound of water splashing into the sea from a bilge pump.īond had not time to worry about them. He could hear the changing beat of its engine. The wounded squid had emptied its ink sac at him.įrom close by came various sounds and echoes. It was covered with black slime, and blackness stained the sea for twenty yards around. He got a hold and reached up his other hand and slowly, agonizingly, pulled himself up so that he was sitting in the fence. So he must be alive Dazedly Bond let go the spear from his trailing hand and reached up and felt for the nearest strand of wire. But he could feel the wire cutting into the tendons behind his knees. His eyes were stinging and there was a horrible fish taste in his mouth. What had happened? Had he gone blind? He could see nothing. He put it down on the ground away from his feet. As a hunk of metal it might be useful, but it wouldn't light any more and it might scrape against the rock. There it would be handy but protected from bitting against anything. Satisfied, he slipped it behind him and down the waistband of his trousers up against his spine. He lifted his knife close up to his eyes and carefully examined the blade. He leant against the cool face of rock and waited for his breathing to get back to normal. Then Bond sat down and meticulously went over the photograph that was in his brain.īond took one long comprehensive look and pulled back. A voice called out, startlingly close, "Okay to go?" There was a distant answer: "Okay." The crane engine accelerated. Bond crept softly forward, watching his footholds for loose stones. Round the bead, the track filtered through a maze of giant, tumbled boulders. It would be about six o'clock, the dawn of a beautiful day.īond, leaving drops of blood behind him, picked his way carefully down the track and along the bottom of the shadowed cliff. Perhaps even now they were watching the scout groups far out at sea locating the fish. Far above him the cormorants were wheeling round the guanera. Clouds tinged with golden pink were trailing away towards the horizon. Should he chance it? He must Get movingīond looked up at the sky. It was black, impenetrable, as deep as the rest.
He gazed vaguely at the softly heaving sheen of water. Slowly he let himself down to the bottom rung of wire.
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