The men waited and waited but nothing happened. The sun began to go down. It got dark and cold. They could no longer see anyone on the beach.

(MUSIC)

The sailor rowed, and then the reporter rowed, and then the sailor rowed again. They rowed and rowed through the long night. The land had disappeared but they could hear the low sound of the waves hitting the shore. This was surely a quiet night.

The cook finally spoke: “Billie, what kind of pie do you like best?”

“Pie,” said the sailor and the reporter angrily. “Don’t talk about those things!”

“Well,” said the cook, “I was just thinking about ham sandwiches, and …”

A night on the sea in an open boat is a long night. The sailor continued to row until his head fell forward and sleep overpowered him. Then he asked the reporter to row for a while. They exchanged places so the sailor could sleep in the bottom of the boat with the cook and the captain.

The reporter thought that he was the one man afloat on all the oceans in the world. The wind had a sad voice as it came over the waves.

Suddenly, there was a long, loud swishing sound behind the boat and a shining trail of silvery blue. It might have been made by a huge knife. Then there was another swish and another long flash of bluish light, this time alongside the boat. The reporter saw a huge fin speed like a shadow through the water, leaving a long glowing trail. The thing kept swimming near the boat. He noted its speed and power. The reporter wished the men would wake up. He did not want to be alone with the shark.