Specifically, a very large barracuda. The fish was about as long as her own tail, and thrashed within the nets with mindless rage. Unfortunately for Sharon, the net was loose enough for the beast to come closer; sensing warmth, the big fish tried to make a move at Sharon's human half.
The barracuda's efforts were rewarded as the fish bit into Sharon's left arm as she tried to push it away. It was less painful than a dog's bite because the teeth were sharper, but it also spilled out twice the blood. Sharon was scared stiff -- especially since the barracuda wouldn't leave hold of her arm -- and thrashed and turned wildly trying to get the animal off herself.
"?Que...?"
Ernesto Guevara (his nickname would became famous only later) was wealthy enough not to worry about a thing. Instead, after becoming a doctor he decided to tour South America by motorcycle and thus he discovered oppression, poverty, and marxism-leninism. After his arrest in the failed 1957 coup, his elderly mother managed to persuade him to stay away from the world and reconsider his options in life; and what better way than living off the bountiful sea?
Of course, he got lonely from time to time. He thought that it was nothing unmanageable, until then.
Finally being done with cleaning the foresail, he turned his attention to the dragnets, and moved as quickly as only someone who had been in a combat situation could -- he sure saw a human head amongst the nets and the blood!
A sharp, pointy knife resembling more a dagger took care of the barracuda as soon as Ernesto could get a hold of it; the water was clouded red, and counting that and the nets he couldn't still see much of the young redhead.
Just as he was preparing to lift the nets, she -- displaying unexpected energy for someone who lost nearly a liter of blood -- managed to get hold of the connecting ropes and lift herself on the boat's side, up to the bellybutton. Red hair and barely tanned skin gave her away as a norteamericana -- what was she doing there? he asked to himself.
Only when he rushed to help her get off the water did he see the tail, starting smoothly where her buttocks should have been. He lost his grip on her from the surprise, and she fell backwards, her wounded arm failing her.
The red cloud at starboard was probably calling sharks like a cloud-breaker already, he reasoned; and, deciding that this was not the time for questions, dragged her on board. Bandaging her wound was an easy task for him; not so was the otherwise simple operation of retracting the dragnet and setting course for home. What a catch!
She -- whoever or whatever she was -- now slept soundly, covered by the still wet foresail Ernesto had lad atop her. Her petite but well endowed human half was still very visible under the white cloth.
Thu Nov 11 20:42:21 1999