One and a half to get back to the boat, four to get inside it without
overturning. Nearly two to get down to the sea--balance difficult. One
and a half to lower myself in.

Thirty seconds' tossing before I sink below the wave layer; then I
turn the motor as high as I dare and head for the shore.

In a minute I have to turn it down; at this speed the radar is
bothered by water currents and keeps steering me away from them as
though they were rocks; I finally find the maximum safe speed but it
is achingly slow. What happens if you are in water when Andite blows
half a mile away? A moment's panic as I find the ship being forced up,
then I realize I have reached the point where the beach starts to
shelve, turn off radar and motor and start crawling. Eternal slow
reach out, grab, shove, haul, with my heart in my mouth; then suddenly
the nose breaks water and I am hauling myself out with a last wave
doing its best to overbalance me.

I am halfway out of the boat when the Andite blows behind me. There is
a flat slapping sound; then an instant roar of wind as the air
receives the binding energies of several tons of matter; then a long
wave comes pelting up the beach and snatches at the boat.

I huddle into the shingle and hold the boat; I have just got the
antigrav turned off, otherwise I think it would have been carried
away. There are two or three more big waves and a patter of spray;
then it is over.

The outlet valve of the helmet is working, so M'Clare is still
breathing; very deep, very slow.

I unfasten the belt of the antigrav, having turned it on again, and
pull the belt through the buckle. No time to take it off and rearrange
it; anyway it will work as well under the stretcher as on top of it. I
drag the boat down to the water, put in an Andite cartridge with the
longest fuse I have, set the controls to take it straight out to sea
at maximum depth the radar control will allow--six feet above
bottom--and push it off. The other Andite cartridge starts burning a
hole in my pocket; I would have liked to put that in too, but I must
keep it, in case.

I look at my chrono and see that in five minutes the hopper will come.

Five minutes.

I am halfway back to the stretcher when I hear a noise further up the
beach. Unmistakable. Shingle under a booted foot.

I stand frozen in mid-stride. I turned the light out after launching
the boat but my eyes have not recovered yet; it is murkily black. Even
my white suit