Locke was unarmed and so from the start was at a disadvantage. The
stranger seemed not so anxious to stab him as to come to close quarters,
and before Locke could prevent him he had done so. With his left hand he
grabbed Locke's lines, while with the other, in which was the keen
knife, he slashed murderously.
Locke tried to break his grip. But the other was not to be denied. With
one stroke he cut through both lines, pushing Locke backward and himself
springing free at the same time.
Immediately Locke's helmet filled with sea water, while the pressure
became enormous. Locke tried to hold his breath, while his hand searched
for the liberating knob. He gave it one twist. It worked perfectly.
Locke's suit, including the helmet, simply opened and fell from him.
Propelled as much by the pressure that the water exerted as by his own
powerful strokes, Locke shot to the surface.
The day was perfect and the bay was calm. For a few seconds Locke
floated, drawing the air into his starving lungs. Then he raised himself
and gazed about him. At first glance everything seemed the same except
for the fact that, whereas before his own boat had been alone, there
were now two.
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