“‘Roger.’
“‘Two-fifty.’
“‘OK.’
“‘Two hundred feet,’ Mays’ voice is still even.
“‘OK,’ comes Huegele’s voice.
“It may be OK with him but it isn’t with me. I just found myself tugging tentatively on the pull toggles which will inflate my ‘Mae West’ life jacket if I yank hard enough. I checked a long time ago to make certain the CO cartridges were where they should be.
“Fred Clampitt, WIOD news editor, is turning green.
“No, it’s not fear. He’s sweating so much that the colored chemical shark repellent in a pocket of his life jacket is starting to run.
“Then we sight the sea again. From this low level the waves are frightening. They are traveling in all directions, not in just one, and they break against each other, dashing salt spray high into the air. It’s all too close.
“Now the ceiling is lifting and we are climbing—250, 300, 500, 700 and we level off. It grows less turbulent and Observer Mays looks up from his deep concentration.