erful coolness of the water close over him. He
judged its temperature quickly. It was close to eighty degrees, he
estimated, and cool only by comparison with the warm air.

He reversed course quickly and stood up. Scotty was also in the water.

"I'm glad we didn't bother with suits," Rick said. "In water like this
we'd even be too warm in midseason suits."

Because of the coldness of the water off the New Jersey coast, the boys
had equipped themselves with full, waterproof rubber suits under which
long under-wear was worn, and with lighter "midseason" suits of foam
neoprene. Because of the reported warmth of water in the Virgin Islands
they hadn't added the suits to their already heavy load of supplies.

They returned to the beach, picked up their equipment, and took it into
the water. Rick sat down and rinsed out his flippers, then carefully
removed the last traces of sand from his feet. He pulled the flippers
on, adjusting them for maximum comfort. His face mask was next. He spat
into it, then rubbed the saliva over the glass. This rather
unsanitary-appearing trick was essential, since saliva is an excellent
antifogging compound needed to help keep the glass clear underwater.
Then he rinsed his mask lightly and adjusted the head straps, leaving
the mask on his forehead.

The snorkels used by the boys were plastic tubes curved at both ends. At
one end was a mouthpiece; at the other was a cage that held a rubber
ball. A dive or rough wave action floated the ball upward, closing the
tube and preventing water entry. Rick and Scotty adjusted the rubber
bands of their snorkels around their heads above the mask straps.

Scotty was ready. He slipped his mask into place, molded the soft rubber
skirt of the mask to the contours of his face, inhaled through his nose
to make sure the seal was airtight, then called, "Let's go!" He gripped
the mouthpiece of his snorkel between his teeth, the rubber flange under
his lips, and slid into the water.

Rick was right behind him. As his mask touched water he saw the white
coral sand of the bottom a few inches down. The only sign of life was a
hermit crab, perhaps a half inch in length, dragging his home of the
moment--a tiny spiral shell.

In one hand, Scotty carried the spear gun by its pistol grip. He swam in
the position that suited him best, both arms hanging limply down. Rick,
on the other hand, preferred to swim with arms relaxed along his sides,
as long as his hands were em