This isn’t working, thought Ben as he worked at the net with his knife. The more frightened Fingal becomes, the more he tangles himself up. If we don’t free him soon, he’ll run out of air.

Cutting a net underwater would have been slippery work even without a terrified dolphin around. Each time Ben tried to break the net, Fingal would thrash. Ben had lost his grip on his knife several times. Good thing it’s attached to my belt, he thought.

Fingal writhed again and Ben nicked his hand with the knife. A slim stream of blood trailed through the water from the cut. Ignoring the stinging pain, he attacked the net again and managed to slice through two strands.

Fingal’s struggles were slowing down the rescue attempt. Zoe swam to where his head was caught.

He stared at her for a moment with frantic eyes, then started wriggling again. Zoe touched his snout through the net and patted his head.

Fingal calmed down a little. Ben cut through another strand, then another. Then he tugged at the broken threads.

Zoe helped Ben tear at the thick nylon net. Suddenly, Fingal poked his snout through the hole. Ben and Zoe ripped the hole wider. They could feel the harsh nylon digging into their hands.

At last, they managed to drag it over the dolphin’s head. After another tug, his flippers were free. But now the net was caught on his dorsal fin. Ben and Zoe grabbed the net and pulled hard. With a flick of his tail, Fingal burst through the hole and toward the surface.

But now, Ben was worried. When the fishermen saw the young dolphin and the hole in their net, they might be angry enough to do something nasty to him.

The net was rising slowly through the water, fish spilling out as the men winched it up. Zoe swam up on the other side of the boat to look for Fingal and lure him away. There he was, leaping in and out of the water, trying to attract the attention of the fishermen. Luckily, they were too busy cursing at the loss of their catch to notice him.

Zoe waved frantically at Fingal and then dived under the water. Thankfully, the dolphin came swimming toward her.

Fingal gave Zoe what looked like a smile, nudged her gently in the tummy, and then swam on his back.

Zoe dived down deeper, and Fingal followed.

Then Zoe saw Ben. He was fiddling with the net still. The cord securing his knife to his belt had gotten tangled in it. He was stuck!

Ben struggled desperately to free his knife. If he unclipped the cord and swim away, he’d leave the knife in the nylon mesh. If he did that, then the fishermen would be sure to see the knife when they pulled the net up, meaning they’d know that the net had been tampered with.

Ben couldn’t risk losing his knife, either. It was likely that he and Zoe would need it again before this adventure was over.

Then Ben tasted peppermint. The GIL was running out of air — they’d have to surface soon. Ben signaled to Zoe that his oxygen was running out. He desperately began to tear at the net, holding his breath. Ben was good at that, but how long could he last?

Ben turned when Zoe’s hand touched his.

Zoe worked with nimble fingers, nudging Fingal away when he got too close. At last, she got the knife free. And just in time — the net shot up above the surface, sending Ben somersaulting backward through the water.

Ben and Zoe were just about to kick away from the boat when a tremendous roar filled their ears and the water churned around them. The propeller was beginning to turn. Now that what was left of the catch was in their boat, the fishermen had started the engine.

Whoosh! Fingal was gone, terrified by the noise and sudden swirling in the water. Above them, the boat began to move. Ben kicked away hard to avoid the blades. He thrashed to the surface and gulped the air in relief.

Zoe swam up alongside him. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” said Ben, “now that I’m finally breathing some fresh air.”

“Where’s the blood coming from?” Zoe asked.

Ben looked at the cut on his hand. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I just nicked myself with my knife. The important thing is that we find Fingal.”

“We’ll be able to search for him better when we’re back in the dinghy,” said Zoe. “He can’t be very far away.”

As they swam, Ben looked around. “You’re right, I think I can see his fin,” he said, pointing at the horizon. “And he’s heading toward us at pretty fast.”

Zoe treaded water and checked her BUG. “That’s not Fingal,” she said, her eyes going wide. “In fact it’s not a dolphin at all. Swim for the boat!”

“What’s the matter?” asked Ben.

“It’s a shark!” Zoe yelled out.