Master of the Game by Sidney Sheldon

The back of a shark nudged the raft, and it almost capsized. The two men grabbed the mast for support. Jamie picked up a paddle and shoved it at a shark, and an instant later the paddle was bitten in two. The sharks surrounded the raft now, swimming in lazy circles, their enormous bodies rubbing up close against the small craft. Each nudge tilted the raft at a precarious angle. It was going to capsize at any moment.

“We’ve got to get rid of them before they sink us.”

“Get rid of them with what?” Banda asked.

“Hand me a tin of beef.”

“You must be joking. A tin of beef won’t satisfy them. They want us!”

There was another jolt, and the raft heeled over.

“The beef!” Jamie yelled. “Get it!”

A second later Banda placed a tin in Jamie’s hand. The raft lurched sickeningly.

“Open it halfway. Hurry!”

Banda pulled out his pocketknife and pried the top of the can half open. Jamie took it from him. He felt the sharp, broken edges of the metal with his finger.

“Hold tight!” Jamie warned.

He knelt down at the edge of the raft and waited. Almost immediately, a shark approached the raft, its huge mouth wide open, revealing long rows of evil, grinning teeth. Jamie went for the eyes. With all his strength, he reached out with both hands and scraped the edge of the broken metal against the eye of the shark, ripping it open. The shark lifted its great body, and for an instant the raft stood on end. The water around them was suddenly stained red. There was a giant thrashing as the sharks moved in on the wounded member of the school. The raft was forgotten. Jamie and Banda watched the great sharks tearing at their helpless victim as the raft sailed farther and farther away until finally the sharks were out of sight.

Banda took a deep breath and said softly, “One day I’m going to tell my grandchildren about this. Do you think they’ll believe me?”

And they laughed until the tears streamed down their faces.

 

 

Late that afternoon, Jamie checked his pocket watch. “We should be off the diamond beach around midnight. Sunrise is at six-fifteen. That means we’ll have four hours to pick up the diamonds and two hours to get back to sea and out of sight. Will four hours be enough, Banda?”

“A hundred men couldn’t live long enough to spend what you can pick up on that beach in four hours.” I just hope we live long enough to pick them up.…

 

 

They sailed steadily north for the rest of that day, carried by the wind and the tide. Toward evening a small island loomed ahead of them. It looked to be no more than two hundred yards in circumference. As they approached the island, the acrid smell of ammonia grew strong, bringing tears to their eyes. Jamie could understand why no one lived here. The stench was overpowering. But it would make a perfect place for them to hide until nightfall. Jamie adjusted the sail, and the small raft bumped against the rocky shore of the low-lying island. Banda made the raft fast, and the two men stepped ashore. The entire island was covered with what appeared to be millions of birds: cormorants, pelicans, gannets, penguins and flamingos. The thick air was so noisome that it was impossible to breathe. They took half a dozen steps and were thigh deep in guano.

“Let’s get back to the raft,” Jamie gasped.

Without a word, Banda followed him.

As they turned to retreat, a flock of pelicans took to the air, revealing an open space on the ground. Lying there were three men. There was no telling how long they had been dead. Their corpses had been perfectly preserved by the ammonia in the air, and their hair had turned a bright red.

A minute later Jamie and Banda were back on the raft, headed out to sea.

 

 

They lay off the coast, sail lowered, waiting.

“We’ll stay out here until midnight. Then we go in.”

They sat together in silence, each in his own way preparing for whatever lay ahead. The sun was low on the western horizon, painting the dying sky with the wild colors of a mad artist. Then suddenly they were blanketed in darkness.

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