By Tom Cain
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Nor could he risk hitting the water holding a deadly blade. ’ Carver threw the knife as far away from himself as he could. He had lost one of his most valuable weapons. But there was no time to waste worrying about that. He pulled at the release-cord and freed himself from his canopy. An instant later, he hit the water. And he kept going down. For a second or two his momentum seemed un-diminished, but then his descent slowed, he kicked out with his legs, pulled at the water above him with his hands and slowly, oh so slowly, he felt himself rise up towards the surface.
His eyes desperately widened to catch any scrap of light, he peered out into the black, murky water and then, suddenly, there it was, a foaming mass of bubbles streaming from the onrushing grey blade of a ship’s bow. Carver took one last breath and dived, frantically kicking out with his fins as he fought to escape the inexorable avalanche of steel now bearing down upon him. It was no good. He wasn’t getting away. The bow was going to hit him. And then, just as he braced himself for the impact, an unseen force picked him up and flung him sideways, displacing him along with the water being forced away from the ship and he was caught up in the wake as it flowed away from the hull, and then, like iron filings attracted to a magnet, was drawn back towards the vessel.
What an image! ’ ‘That’s why I didn’t tell you about it sooner. I knew you’d want it. ’ The President looked him right in the eye. ‘Because I aim to make the fight against slavery one of the central pillars of my foreign policy. ’ Whatever Harrison James had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. ‘You know, you coulda told me this earlier. I mean, you just said we didn’t want to campaign on race. ’ ‘We’re not going to, because this isn’t about race,’ said Roberts, totally serious now. ‘It’s about humanity.