came sharply aware that there was no more air coming 

 into my mask, I took quick stock of the situation. Should I 

 head back to the ladder some sixty feet away? Should I 

 swim to the surface, trusting that I could keep myself afloat 

 in spite of the lead belt around my waist, until someone 

 discovered my predicament? Or should I struggle with the 

 fastening of the belt in the hope of getting it off before 

 attempting to surface? I knew that the latter was the proper 

 procedure, but I doubted if I could pull the buckle free 

 with the handicap of my bandaged side. 



But as these thoughts flashed through my mind, I 

 was akeady making a quick leap in the direction of the 

 ladder. The water there was so murky I could see only 

 vague shadows. Just as I thought I could not go without 

 air a second longer, I realized that I was once more breath- 

 ing. 



I gratefully inhaled a gulp of air as I seized the bot- 

 tom rung of the ladder and pulled myself up, to find Ed 

 freeing my hose from one of the metal legs, where it had 

 become entangled. It had evidently floated to the surface 

 when I was maneuvering to get clear of the anchor tackle, 

 and as I swam toward the bow, had caught on the ladder 

 and kinked. Ed had often assured me that he kept an eye 

 on me when I was underwater. Now I knew that he 

 meant it. 



A short time later we had the nine-foot anchor lashed 

 to Sea Diver's rail. We were removing our diving gear 

 when a launch drew up alongside with the prefect, the 

 colonel and the Becks aboard. As Ed hurried down the deck 

 in his bare feet to greet them, he kicked a corner of the 

 freezer box. Feeling a quick stab of pain, he examined his 

 right foot to find the fourth toe bent straight back on itself. 

 He wrenched it back into place, hoping it was only out of 

 joint, and continued aft to help our guests aboard. 



Search for the Santa Maria 207 



