of water and shot through without a touch, turning and finning to wait
for Vin Baker.
The Australian came through in the next rush of water, but Nick saw him
flicked sideways by the current, and he struck the jagged opening a
touching blow. There was instantly a roaring rush of escaping oxygen
from his breathing bag, as the steel split it wide, and for a moment the
Chief was obscured in the silver cloud of gas that was his life's
breath.
Oh God, I'm snagged/ he shouted, clutching helplessly at his empty bag
plummeting sharply into the green depths at the drastic change in his
buoyance. The heavily leaded belt around his waist had been weighted to
counter the flotation of the oxygen bag, and he went down like a gannet
diving on a shoal of sardine.
Nick saw instantly what was about to happen. The current had him - it
was dragging him down under the hull, sucking him under that hammering
steel bottom, where he would be crushed against the stony beach by
twenty-two thousand tons of pounding steel.
Nick went head down, finning desperately to catch the swirling body
which tumbled like a leaf in high wind. He had a fleeting glimpse of
Baker's face, contorted with terror and lack of breath, the glass visor
of his helmet already swamping with icy water as the pressure spurted
through the non-return valve. The Chief's headset microphone squealed
once and then went dead as the water shorted it out.
Drop your belt/yelled Nick, but Baker did not respond; he had not heard,
his headset had gone and instead he fought ineffectually in the swirling
current, drawn inexorably down to brutal death.
Nick got a hand to him and threw back with all his strength on his fins
to check their downward plunge, but still they went down and Nick's
right hand was clumsy with cold and the double thickness of his mittens
as he groped for the quick-release on the Chief's belt.
He hit the rounded bottom of the great hull with his shoulder, and felt
them dragged under to where clouds of sediment blew like smoke from the
working of the keel.
Locked together like a couple of waltzing dancers, they swung around and
he saw the keel, like the blade of a guillotine, rise up high above
them. He could not reach the Chief's release toggle.
There were only micro-seconds in which to go for his one other chance.
He hit his own release and the thick belt with thirty-five pounds of
lead fell away from Nick's waist; with it went the buddy line that would
guide them back to the waiting Zodiac, for it had been clipped into the
back of the belt.
The abrupt loss of weight checked their downward plunge, and fighting
with all the strength of his legs, Nick was just able to hold them clear
of the great keel as it came swinging downwards.
Within ten feet of them, steel struck stone with a force that rang in
Nick's eardrum like a bronze gong but he had an armlock on the Chief's
struggling body, and now at last his right hand found the release toggle
on the other man's belt.
He hit it, and another thirty-five pounds of lead dropped away. They
