Free Gold of the Gods by Bear Grylls

making sudden, unexpected
darts towards them. By now the twins' faces
were fixed in horror. With their arms
wrapped around the mast in a vice-like grip,
they were mumbling something Beck could
not hear. Christina dropped her head and
made the sign of the cross.
    The impact, when it came, took the
crew of the Bella Señora completely by
surprise. The deck flexed, lifting them
high into the air as the shark's nose
smashed into the balsa logs beneath. In a
blind panic, they rolled towards opposite
sides of the raft while the mast shuddered
and shook. Ringo was nowhere to be
seen.
    Grabbing at the mast to steady himself,
Beck leaped to his feet. 'That was just a
mock charge. If he charges us again, he'll
sink the raft. Chrissy, Marco – we've only
got one chance.' Even Beck was struggling
to stay calm.
    The shark was coming round again now,
but this time it had tightened its circle and
was no more than seven or eight metres
away. 'Untie one of the vines from the sail.'
Beck's eyes were fixed like searchlights on
the fin, tracking its every move. 'It doesn't
matter which one. Just untie it. Now.' His
voice was taut with urgency.
    Rigid with fear, Marco and Christina
worked in tandem like zombies. Their eyes
stared straight ahead of them, unable to take
in what was happening. With trembling
fingers, they dragged the vine from where
they had so carefully threaded it through
the sheet and around the bamboo frame of
the mast when they built the raft.
    Marco cursed. 'Why did we tie this so
tightly? It just won't come free.'
    Beck was holding the tiller with one hand
as he stood on the edge of the raft, watching
the ever-decreasing circuit of the shark's fin
through the waves. 'Quick, guys. Quick,
quick.' His voice was quieter and calmer
now. He knew the twins were doing everything
they could as fast as was humanly
possible.
    'Done it!' shouted Marco at last, sweat
pouring from his face.
    Beck had removed the machete from its
sheath and was holding it in his hand,
mouthing encouragement to himself as if he
were preparing for a race. A look of calm
determination spread over his face. He
knew for certain that he only had one
chance and he was not about to blow it
now.
    As Marco fed him the vine, Beck looped
one end through the metal ring that
dangled from the handle of the machete. As
his fingers danced around one another, he
mouthed the famous scouts' mantra: ' Up through the hole. Round the tree. Back down the hole .' He could tie the sailor's famous
bowline knot in his sleep, but never before
had he needed it like he needed it now.
    Pulling the knot tight, Beck glanced at
the shark again. 'Tie the other end to the
mast,' he hissed through clenched teeth.
'Clove hitch is best. But anything, anything
will do so long as it holds. If we lose the
machete, we're done for.'
    Then the shark charged. Like a torpedo,
it was coming straight for the raft. Christina
screamed as Beck threw himself across the
deck. Rows of jagged razor teeth were now
clearly visible above the surface of the water.
To the twins on the far side of the raft, Beck
looked as if he were about to be swallowed
whole by the shark's jaws, its teeth framing
the outline of his body like a trophy on a
game hunter's wall.
    For an instant Beck stood rooted to the
spot. His right arm held the machete high
over one shoulder as every muscle in his
body flexed beneath his skin. Then, with a
sudden flick, he sent the blade of the
machete circling through the air like a
boomerang whistling towards its prey.
    To Marco, the scene unfolded like the
slo-mo replay of a winning shot in the final
moments of a World Cup final. The flashing
steel of the blade spun through the air
with a whop, whop, whop sound before
slicing through the creature's head and
eye. A livid red line opened up along the side
of its head and a jet of blood spurted high
in the air.
    Then the shark's snout crashed down into
the water, just missing the side of the raft.
The impact sent a wave pounding over the
deck,