Marissa hung on to the coral so the current didn’t pull her along as she let her eyes adapt to the shadows. She was glad she was wearing the heavy gloves. Finally Marissa saw what Wendy had pointed to: a large green moray eel with its mouth open and its needlelike teeth bared.
Marissa recoiled from the sight. This was precisely the sort of creature she hoped not to see.
Wynn joined the two girls. Pulling out another bait fish he managed to coax the moray out of its crevice, terrifying Marissa in the process. It writhed through the water, snatching the bait fish in its horrid jaws, then retreating to its hideaway.
As Wendy took a bait fish from Wynn and tried to get the eel to come out again, Marissa began to comprehend that beneath the reef’s veneer of spectacular beauty lurked an entirely predatory world. The potential for danger lay everywhere. It was a violent, eat-or-be-eaten world. Even some of the exquisite coral was razor-sharp to the touch.
While Wendy and Wynn devoted themselves to the eel, Marissa heard a low-pitched vibration that made her look up toward the water’s surface. The sound became progressively louder, but just as Marissa was about to become alarmed, it stopped. Holding her breath, she listened intently. All she heard was the hiss of the waves above. When it became clear that neither Wendy nor
Wynn was concerned about the sound, Marissa decided to ignore it too.
After Wendy had tired of the game with the moray eel, she and Wynn recommended swimming along the reef. After twenty more feet, they entered yet another coral gorge. Again Wendy stopped and pointed for Marissa’s benefit.
Marissa joined Wendy cautiously, hoping another eel hadn’t caught her eye. To her relief, Wendy had spotted some colorful clown fish ensconced in the poisonous tentacles of a bed of sea anemone. The fish were a neon orange with vivid white stripes edged in black. For several minutes both Wendy and Marissa were entertained by their antics.
After almost an hour of diving, Marissa began to tire. She still felt mildly nauseated and was fatigued from fighting the surge. It was a constant struggle to keep from being knocked against the coral. Finally Marissa decided she’d had enough.
Signaling Wendy and Wynn, Marissa indicated that she wanted to return to the boat. Wendy nodded and started to come with her, but Marissa signaled for her to stay. Marissa didn’t want to drag her friend back until Wendy was good and read
Y.
Wynn gave Marissa the okay signal. He and Wendy waved a farewell. Marissa waved back, then turned and started swimming for the boat. When she got to the mouth of the channel where the boat was anchored, she looked back at Wendy and Wynn. They were intently examining something on the face of the coral about sixty feet away. Marissa swam into the channel. Ahead she could see the Oz’s keel, the shark cage, and what looked like another smaller boat off to the left.
Reaching the dive platform, Marissa hauled herself up onto it.
Exhausted, she was content to sit for a minute with her legs dangling in the water and her back against the stern of the boat.
As the boat rose and fell, the platform was alternately submerged up to her navel, then dry.
Marissa removed her mouthpiece and shoved her face mask up on her forehead. After wiping her eyes, she reached up and grabbed the rail that ran around the stern. Still she didn’t stand.
She continued to sit on the dive platform. It seemed that the motion of the boat was worse than the surge.
“Guess I’m just a landlubber,” she told herself. She was embarrassed such relatively calm seas could have such an effect on her, but then she had always been susceptible to motion. As a child, she had often gotten carsick.
While she was waiting to feel better, Marissa became aware of progressive movement around her legs. Bending over, she saw a profusion of small, eager fish darting about. Looking more closely, she saw bits and pieces of fish go by with the current, then a larger blur of what looked like blood and entrails. The building school of fish was busily feeding.