I had my parachute folded in its neat, dry pack at my back; but Pete's was in the sea. If she struck us and smashed us, I might leap free; but Pete would drop like a plummet.
I dodged her, steering wider to the right; and with another swift, stabbing spurt's he flew for us. I put nose down and dodged; and nose down, and diving, she stabbed at me; but she nose-dived a hundredth of a second too late to strike. I was under her feet. No possible relic of doubt of her intent; none. She had tried to smash me. There was no use and I had no second of respite to wonder why. The fact completely engaged me.
For the moment, I had forgotten Pete in saving myself. Now I did not consciously in recollect him. I looked over the side and caught sight of his feet. There he was, still safe; but his feet were twisted. He had half turned, as he clung to the wing, and was looking back.
