explode.
“Under!” Mr. Meekins yelled.
I dove. Water rumbled in my ears and I was rolled sideways. Salt water rushed up my nose. I felt the rough bottom against one hip, then, suddenly, I was floating. Mr. Meekins's words sounded in my mind. “Pop your head up, spot the next one….” I gaveone hard stroke toward the surface. I shot out stale breath, sucked in new air, took a split-second glance at the next monster wave, and dove under quickly.
On this wave I'd made it in time. My body curved in a graceful arc, down toward the bottom, then up to the surface. The turbulence washed over the soles of my feet as they flipped like fins behind me. The wave hadn't even known I was there!
Again, there was no time to relax, only a moment for a new breath and another dive toward the bottom. Over and over we dove, surfaced in the troughs, and dove again, working our way out, Mr. Meekins strong as a dolphin beside me. He was right. It wasn't fighting. It was sneaking.
We swam out through the breakers toward the horizon. Once, I got a faceful of foam and gulped in salt water and air until I was choking. Then, with a strong stroke of my arms, I swam past the last breaker. Here the green mountains of water rose and fell without tossing me. Mr. Meekins floated near me.
“Good swimming,” he said.
“William and Floyd taught me to swim, off Roanoke Island,” I said between quick breaths.
“They're good swimmers,” he said. “A surfman's got to know how to swim, even through rough breakers. Never know when the surfboat might capsize.”
“Right,” I said.
We were far from shore now, with the white foam of the breakers separating us from land. I paddled with my hands and turned myself around. A wave lifted me up, and I spotted five gray fins gliding through the water nearby.
“When they see us, they'll come closer,” said Mr. Meekins. “They're curious—think we're strange fish.”
The dolphins swept close, then leapt out of the water, their sleek gray bodies glistening.
“I could almost touch them!” I shouted.
The dolphins circled us, then swam farther out to where a group of pelicans were swooping down and grabbing at something in the water.
“There's a school of fish out there,” said Mr. Meekins. “Dinner for everyone.”
The excitement of the dolphins left me panting, out of breath.
“You tired?” Mr. Meekins asked.
“No,” I answered, and we kept on swimming.
But soon my arms and legs felt like limp rags. I knew I'd best get in before I had no strength left.
“Now I'm tired,” I said.
“We'll swim back into the breakers and ride one in,” said Mr. Meekins.
Ride? I gave him a worried glance. No one had said anything about riding.
We swam together back toward shore. When we passed the breaker line, I felt the sucking that comes before a wave topples. I spun around quickly and dove under, as we'd done on our way out. When I popped my head up, Mr. Meekins was gone.
My chest tightened. My arms felt suddenly weaker. Ride? I forgot to dive. The wave took my body. It tumbled me over, rolling me sideways and head over heels. When it let me loose and rolled past, I was closer to shore, but still amid the breakers. Before I could catch my breath and dive under, the next wave grabbed me and tossed me toward shore in a rolling heap. Water shot up my nose. The wave shoved me against the rough bottom. I felt sand under my knees and scrambled to my feet. I took two lurching steps forward, crumpled as the wave sucked backward, then fell on my face as the next wave pushed me from behind.
I managed to crawl to shore. There, I crouched, gasping and heaving, spitting out salt water and sand, feeling the sting of scrapes on my back, arms, and knees.
Mr. Meekins stood and looked down at me. “You could have ridden in a little better, but other than that you did fine,” he said.
I suggested that riding waves be part of our next swimming lesson, and he agreed.
THIRTEEN
George Midgett got weaker instead
“Under!” Mr. Meekins yelled.
I dove. Water rumbled in my ears and I was rolled sideways. Salt water rushed up my nose. I felt the rough bottom against one hip, then, suddenly, I was floating. Mr. Meekins's words sounded in my mind. “Pop your head up, spot the next one….” I gaveone hard stroke toward the surface. I shot out stale breath, sucked in new air, took a split-second glance at the next monster wave, and dove under quickly.
On this wave I'd made it in time. My body curved in a graceful arc, down toward the bottom, then up to the surface. The turbulence washed over the soles of my feet as they flipped like fins behind me. The wave hadn't even known I was there!
Again, there was no time to relax, only a moment for a new breath and another dive toward the bottom. Over and over we dove, surfaced in the troughs, and dove again, working our way out, Mr. Meekins strong as a dolphin beside me. He was right. It wasn't fighting. It was sneaking.
We swam out through the breakers toward the horizon. Once, I got a faceful of foam and gulped in salt water and air until I was choking. Then, with a strong stroke of my arms, I swam past the last breaker. Here the green mountains of water rose and fell without tossing me. Mr. Meekins floated near me.
“Good swimming,” he said.
“William and Floyd taught me to swim, off Roanoke Island,” I said between quick breaths.
“They're good swimmers,” he said. “A surfman's got to know how to swim, even through rough breakers. Never know when the surfboat might capsize.”
“Right,” I said.
We were far from shore now, with the white foam of the breakers separating us from land. I paddled with my hands and turned myself around. A wave lifted me up, and I spotted five gray fins gliding through the water nearby.
“When they see us, they'll come closer,” said Mr. Meekins. “They're curious—think we're strange fish.”
The dolphins swept close, then leapt out of the water, their sleek gray bodies glistening.
“I could almost touch them!” I shouted.
The dolphins circled us, then swam farther out to where a group of pelicans were swooping down and grabbing at something in the water.
“There's a school of fish out there,” said Mr. Meekins. “Dinner for everyone.”
The excitement of the dolphins left me panting, out of breath.
“You tired?” Mr. Meekins asked.
“No,” I answered, and we kept on swimming.
But soon my arms and legs felt like limp rags. I knew I'd best get in before I had no strength left.
“Now I'm tired,” I said.
“We'll swim back into the breakers and ride one in,” said Mr. Meekins.
Ride? I gave him a worried glance. No one had said anything about riding.
We swam together back toward shore. When we passed the breaker line, I felt the sucking that comes before a wave topples. I spun around quickly and dove under, as we'd done on our way out. When I popped my head up, Mr. Meekins was gone.
My chest tightened. My arms felt suddenly weaker. Ride? I forgot to dive. The wave took my body. It tumbled me over, rolling me sideways and head over heels. When it let me loose and rolled past, I was closer to shore, but still amid the breakers. Before I could catch my breath and dive under, the next wave grabbed me and tossed me toward shore in a rolling heap. Water shot up my nose. The wave shoved me against the rough bottom. I felt sand under my knees and scrambled to my feet. I took two lurching steps forward, crumpled as the wave sucked backward, then fell on my face as the next wave pushed me from behind.
I managed to crawl to shore. There, I crouched, gasping and heaving, spitting out salt water and sand, feeling the sting of scrapes on my back, arms, and knees.
Mr. Meekins stood and looked down at me. “You could have ridden in a little better, but other than that you did fine,” he said.
I suggested that riding waves be part of our next swimming lesson, and he agreed.
THIRTEEN
George Midgett got weaker instead
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