"Right!" Splinter disappeared into the port, reappeared a moment later with several cans and boxes in the crook of his left arm.
He dropped down the ladder, squatted at Kerry Blane's side, opened the cans with twists of their keys. More composed now, he handed several boxes to Kerry Blane, grinned at the old pilot.
"Take several of those capsules, first," he ordered.
Kerry Blane grunted disagreeably, took a gelatin capsule from each of the boxes, then dropped the containers into his pockets. He popped the vitamin pills into his mouth, swallowed convulsively.
"Satisfied?" he snapped.
Splinter laughed aloud, followed the other's example. Then he handed a can of food and another of water to Kerry Blane, found cans for himself.
They ate for minutes, finding themselves strangely hungry, their eyes drinking in the strange beauty of the phosphorescent ocean, feeling contentment softening the terror and action of the past hours.
"It's just like a picnic," Kerry Blane commented whimsically, tossed a can toward the water's edge.
And then they were on their feet, cans spilling from their laps, their dis-guns alert.