Read Online Cuttlefish by Dave Freer - Free Book Online Page B

mass of net tangled over it. The hatch opens a crack, but the divers couldn't even get a hand out in their suits. It's a lot to ask of you, boy, but someone needs to go in there, in their skin, with small hands and some shears. There's a diver's breather pipe there. You'll have air, but you'll be underwater. If youcut it clear enough you'll probably have to squeeze out and cut the tangle away, so the divers can get out properly.”
    Tim swallowed. Looked around at all of them. That girl was standing looking at him from the doorway, eyes wide. Captain Malkis continued. “We've fouled the propellers too. If we try to pull free—we'll wind the propellers right off. If we don't pull free, we're only at ten feet down, and the tide is going out. By morning we'll be visible to the observation dirigibles.”
    What could Tim do, except to nod?
    A few minutes later Eddie was showing him how to breathe with the hookah mouthpiece. “We're lucky to have these mouthpieces. They dive without helmets in Westralia, and that's where the compressor comes from. The pipe usually screws onto the back of the helmet, see.”
    The two air hoses were neatly coiled and still wet, as was the chamber. It must be very tight in here with two of them in their diving suits.
    Standing, shivering slightly in his canvas knee-breeches and nothing else, Tim could see just how attractive the brass helmet with its windows, and the thick waterproof canvas suit could be too. But all he had was a knife and a set of wire-cutters. The netting out there had some strands cored with braided steel.
    They closed the hatch on him. There was a waterproof light on the wall, but Tim still felt very alone and very scared. He took a deep breath, put the mouthpiece in his mouth, and cracked the outer hatch. They could do that from inside too—to launch tick-tocks and the escape pod, but now it was up to him.…The seawater came spraying in. It was like being in an icy shower. And then a chilly bath, the water in the narrow chamber climbing steadily around his thighs and then up his body. Tim forced himself to duck down. Breathe underwater, through the mouthpiece, while he could still stand up and breathe, just as Eddie had told him to. Then he stood up and opened the hatch some more. Eddie had said do it little bylittle—it had a brass screw with a big butterfly nut letting you do so slowly.
    Only it wouldn't open much. The water flooded in still. And soon the only air in the escape chamber was from the bubbles from the mouthpiece. Tim tried to force the hatch open more. Not with all his strength would it move. So he tried to get his hand out of the gap. He could. Just. Not holding the knife. He had to hand it through to himself and try to feel to cut. A thread snapped. And another two. But his arm just couldn't go any farther. His forearms were too thick. He tried the other hand. It was no better.
    He had to close the hatch again and push and twist the purge knob, as Eddie had shown him.
    They were waiting. Shivering, Tim had to shake his head as someone handed him a towel. “It's no good, sir. My arm is too thick…it needs to bend here. In the middle of my forearm.”
    â€œMy arms and hands are smaller,” said the girl, in the silence.

    Clara never quite knew what made her say that. But it was true. She was a bit smaller than the boy was, and her forearms were nothing like as muscular.
    â€œI can't ask you to do that, miss,” said the captain with finality. “Your mother would never permit it.”
    â€œI cut some of the strands,” said the boy, shivering. “I'll try again, sir. Just…just let me warm up for a minute.”
    â€œGet the boy something warm to drink from Cookie, Willis,” said the captain.
    â€œIf we don't get free of the net, they'll sink us and we'll drown and be killed anyway,” said Clara. “And I can swim.”
    The captain took a deep breath. “Let us go and speak