"You've got a point." Rick loaded the camera with fast black-and-white film and returned it to the case. Then he replaced the cover and disconnected the compressor long enough to pump pressure into the camera case. "Ready to go," he announced.
"Take it easy," Scotty said. "We'd better rest a half hour or so. If we don't knock ourselves out, we can get in three more dives today."
Rick knew the wisdom of that. He adjusted the camera and took a series of "establishing" shots, to establish that the movie had been taken on a boat near an island. Then, when the time came to dive, he photographed Scotty entering the water. At his direction, Scotty got out again, while Rick got in, swam down a few feet, and took a shot of Scotty entering from that angle. Then the camera followed as Scotty flippered smoothly down into the deep water.
Rick followed, camera extended in front of him, sighting through the gun-type sights mounted on top of the case. There was a handgrip on each side, with the controls handy to his fingers. By watching the light meter he could change his exposure as the shifting light required.
He moved ahead of Scotty, panned across the wreck, then reversed the camera to photograph Scotty approaching. On a hunch, he stood well back when Scotty approached the underwater entrance and got a picture that was priceless! The grouper had returned to his home, and frightened by the light that suddenly probed his hide-out, he flashed out and caught Scotty by surprise. Scotty dropped his flashlight and back-pedaled frantically. Grinning, Rick kept his camera grinding. Scotty turned and saw that Rick was shooting, and held both hands to his face in mock dismay. Rick cut and secured the camera to an outcropping with its safety line.
Scotty picked up his light and crawled slowly into the opening. Rick waited, watching anxiously to be sure his friend's hoses and regulator cleared the entrance. Then Scotty vanished inside. In a moment he reappeared, headfirst, and beckoned.
Rick followed him in, his own flashlight extended. It was a little murky from the grouper's hurried departure, but he saw instantly that they were in what had been for those days a large cabin. This must have been the skipper's quarters. His light picked out the remains of furniture, including one massive chair that was still in good condition.
Scotty gestured with his light and Rick saw an oaken door. He swam over to it and inspected it closely. It was still firm, still in place. Where did it lead?
There was only one way to find out. He took hold of the old-fashioned handle and pulled. The door didn't budge. Rick tried again and failed. He swung himself around and put both feet on the wall next to the door, then applied leverage.
The handle came completely off. Rick sailed backward across the cabin and his tank rang like a bell as it struck something metallic. Scotty hurried to his side, and Rick gestured that he was all right. They turned to inspect the object against which Rick had hurtled and found that it was the still-sound strap for a beam, probably made of wrought iron.