Anaconda
descended to the rudder. Owing to the shadow cast upon the water by the ship and the curve of the hull, it was rather
gloomy, though the broken rudder was fairly visible. Ben's long tow-coloured hair swayed softly around in a shifting
halo as he secured his rope to the end of the spindle that stuck out below the rudder. Anaconda secured the neck of the
bag that held their equipment to the rope, leaving their hands free to work. Still grasping the stern line, they inspected
the damage.
The big man waggled his hand at Ben, who produced some copper strip and the hammer from the sack. Anaconda
signalled with one finger. Ben rummaged a nail out and passed it to him while holding the end of the strip against one
side of the big oblong rudder. Gripping the rope with his legs, Anaconda half knocked the nail through the copper strip
and into the rudder timber, then dropped the hammer back into the sack and pointed upward. Ben transmitted a thought
to Ned up on deck. 'We're coming up for air!'
The dog's reply flashed though his mind. 'Thank goodness for that, I thought you'd both decided to be fishes!'
The two broke the surface, blinking and gasping for air. Thuron sat on the deck with his legs between the gallery rails
and called over the side, 'Are you both alright? What's it like down there?'
Ben called up to him. 'It will take a couple of dives, but we've got one end of the strip fixed with a nail.'
The Frenchman made as if to rise. 'Well done! D'you need more help? I'll come down an' lend ye a hand!'
Anaconda shook his head. 'There's only room for me an' the boy, Cap'n. You'd be in the way.'
Ben was in agreement. 'Aye, you stay up there, sir. Stop Ned from taking over the ship. He's keen to be a cap'n, you
know.'
The black Labrador glared at Ben from between the rails. 'Aye, and I won't stand impudence from my crew, young
feller!'
They submerged again, this time for Ben to thread the copper strip between the back of the rudder and the spindle.
However, there was a buildup of barnacles and green, hairlike seaweed. The boy used Anaconda's knife to clear it, then
began poking the strip through, fraction by fraction. It was difficult, the soft copper bending every time it hit a snag.
Twice more the pair had to go up for air, but on the third descent, Ben's fingers, now cold and slippery from the green
weeds, managed to thread the strip through. Anaconda half fixed it from the other side with a nail, then they were up
again for more air.
Ben waved to Thuron. 'We've got it, sir. Now we only have to stretch the strip tight and get more nails in it on both
sides!'
Thuron smiled gratefully. 'Pierre, tell the cook to make these lads a good hot bowl o' soup apiece. It must be cold
down there, working as long as those two have.' He waved as they submerged once more.
This time Anaconda took six nails in his mouth. He began to work swiftly, though it was extremely difficult. Ben held
tight to the rudder, trying to prevent it from moving, his body shaking as each hammer blow struck. Suddenly the
hammer slipped from Anaconda's grasp, and his hand hit the nail head hard: Blood gouted out like a red ribbon into
the sea. Ben gestured through the shadowed water that they should go up, but the giant grinned and shook his head,
signalling that there was only one more nail to go. Gamely, he spat the last nail into his hand and began nailing the last
bit of strip to the rudder. It went home with four hefty whacks. Anaconda pointed upward—then everything happened
at once.
Up on deck, the ship's wheel, which was unmanned to allow the rudder repairs, took the bite of the newly repaired
rudder. The wheel spun half a turn, sending the rudder crashing into Ben's head. Through a pain-filled mist of
semiconsciousness, he let go of the rope and floated up. Looking back, he saw the big steersman reach a hand up
toward him, when a massive, dark shape struck Anaconda. For a moment the water was a seething mass of bubbling
crimson, and then something lashed sharply, stinging the back of Ben's leg. He lost all his senses, whirling upside
down in red-streaked blackness as Ned's wild baying and calling echoed inside his brain. 'Ben! Howoooooh!
Beeeeeen!'
Thuron saw the blood and bubbles rising. Clamping a knife in his mouth, he dodged around the howling dog and dived
over the rail without a backward glance. Ben was dangling upside down underwater, the broken rope wrapped about
his leg. A crimson trail plunged down into the misty depths. There was no sign of Anaconda. The Frenchman grabbed
the boy and the rope, tugging furiously as he saw other massive, dark shapes homing in on them both.
They were dragged from the sea by a crew hauling frenziedly on the rope. Thuron never once let go of Ben or the
rope; his whole body wrapped around both. As the pair were manhandled over the stern rail, a huge head, its razor-
toothed mouth agape, cleared the surface a handsbreadth away from the Frenchman's foot.
Pierre flung a boat hook after it, shouting, 'Sharks! Sharks!'
Several of the crewmen, who were armed with loaded pistols, fired at the sinister fins, which had begun circling the
fool!'
Thuron was thumping Ben's back as seawater poured from the senseless boy's mouth. The Frenchman looked up, his
face a picture of tragedy and shock, and screamed, 'Anaconda is gone, Pierre, he's gone!'
The firing ceased, and all hands stared at one another in disbelief. Anaconda gone?
