Immediately Don cut his power again and dropped the nose; but he had to bank around to get in position once more to power-stall down.
Watching as he executed the maneuver, he saw Garry jump away from his position, half on the helicopter pontoon and half in the boat, turn as he sprang through the air, and strike water, with a flash of lighted spray, to begin swimming with strong, swift strokes, around the end of a pontoon.
Don lost valuable seconds, getting in approach position.
When next he could look, he saw that Garry was at the edge of the heavier concealing clumps of eel grass, treading water, hesitating.
Down came the Dart.
As he took the water Don cut out his power instantly, to enable him to be heard.
“Garry!” he called, “where is he!”
“Hiding in the grass, I guess!”
“Wait!” Don knew that Garry could make no progress trying to swim into that clutching, restraining mesh of tangled grass blades, tall, yielding, but gripping arms and legs in any effort to pass through. “I will get in the crash boat: he’s hiding. The boat will show him—it has a spotlight!”
Garry, treading water, listened for sounds of movement in the clump of grass, agreed.