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There was the barest of hesitations before Steve replied. "Snorkel. There's nothing that's more fun than snorkeling around the reefs. That's the only way to swim in waters like these. You can get right down among the fish." Rick saw Scotty's mouth open to point out Steve's error, but he stepped on his friend's foot and said quickly, "We're here for the swimming, too. Maybe we can join forces."
Scotty pulled his mask into place and molded it to his face, then gripped his snorkel between his teeth. Rick followed suit and leveled off in the water in diving position, but he hesitated, waiting to see what the boat would do. It didn't take long to find out. The boat stayed on a perfectly straight course, headed directly for them. Rick waited.
In a short time the four had changed to swimming suits and were testing the water off Pirate's Beach. It was cold, but not unbearable. Once they were accustomed to it, Rick picked up the instructions where he had left off the day before. Jan was using Barby's mask, snorkel, and fins. They would get her some of her own on the first trip to Whiteside. Barby had borrowed her father's equipment.
Rick and Scotty took the two bulkiest to the cockpit and opened them to disclose full skin-diving equipment. The boys had made the cases themselves, to be carried like suitcases. Each held a single air tank, regulator, mask, fins, snorkel, underwater watch, depth gauge, weight belt, equipment belt, and knife.
The mask wasn't a perfect fit, but she was experienced enough not to mind a little leakage. The snorkel was all right, since no fit was involved, but the fins were ludicrous on her small feet. She had stuffed cotton in the toes to make them tight enough to wear, but that made the fins hard to control. "Follow the leader!" Rick called.
He knew the answer would be no. Steve wasn't vacationing; he was on a case. A vacationing skin diver would know that a snorkel is nothing but a tube that allows a swimmer to float face down on the surface of the water while looking for something to dive after.
Chow, in a chef's cap, with an apron around his paunchy stomach, had come stomping in hastily from the galley. "Pore lil ole boys," he fussed. "Brand my snorkel, I never should've let you young'uns go pokin' around down below there without me around to keep an eye on things!" Tom slapped the loyal old Texan on the back. "If you want a dive, come along." "You're goin' back down?" Chow asked.
So I'll have to get blue equipment for me. And my snorkel is red, and that just won't do, because..." Scotty held up his hand. "Say no more. I will swap snorkels with you, because mine is blue." "I knew you would when you understood," Barby said smugly. "I don't understand, but I'll trade. Come on. Let's go to Whiteside."
He led the way a few feet under the surface to where he had seen Tony and Scotty, then led Rick to the top once more. Tony and Scotty saw them emerge and without a word turned and started back toward the cottage, pushing their floats. Instead of bothering with the snorkel, Rick kept the aqualung mouthpiece in place and swam a few feet under the surface, guiding himself by the wake of the others.
"It's still early. Why can't we give Jan another swimming lesson?" They had started the day before teaching Jan how to use underwater breathing apparatus. She was an excellent swimmer, almost as good as Barby. But she had never had experience with mask, fins, and snorkel, so lessons in the use of those were required before she could graduate to the aqualungs. "Let's go," Rick said.
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