"All rays live on shellfish," he said, "and they have small mouths with plates instead of teeth to crush the shells with. So that it really couldn't do us any harm, any way."
"It's de smoddehin', boss, de smoddehin'. Oh, why did Ah try an' make trouble ober dem durn sponge beds? Ef Ah eber gets on sho' again Ah'll be a betteh man. Lordy, Lordy, what am Ah gwine to do?"
His voice rose in a shriek.
"He's a-comin' now!"
The pointed fin jerked suddenly and a third of the gigantic shape heaved itself into the air as the devil ray whirled. There was an instant of suspense, but the giant went past, one huge fin beating the air like the waving of some uncanny monstrous moth born in the terrors of a nightmare, and the boat was wrenched around sharply, half filling it and almost throwing Colin out.
Over almost exactly the same course that he had taken, the ray raced back, the weight of the boat seeming to make no difference to its speed; and then a second time the creature turned. It seemed impossible that with a speed of not less than twenty miles an hour so huge a creature—the size of one side of a tennis court—could twist
about in its own length. How the rope and the frame of the boat stood the strain no one ever knew.
Once more the vampire turned; the boat nearly went over, but she was a staunch little craft, and the fish started down the lagoon between the reefs at its top speed. Often the creature put its two horn-like tentacles down for a dive, but the water was everywhere shallow and there was no chance to drag the boat under.
"It doesn't seem to be tiring much," the capitalist remarked, "but I don't see what more we can do."
"No," Colin answered, "I don't think the ray feels our weight at all. I believe it's going faster."