It was late in the day now. Perhaps it was a ploy on the part of her father to fool the fish. To her it was just another sign of his depression. They would usually cast off in the small hours of the morning, but father had lain in bed until lunchtime and hadn't dressed himself until four.

She watched his bent form as he cast the mesh over the side. How old he seemed now, what had happened to the daddy who used to laugh and play along with her silly games?

She helped him as the net slipped silently into the water, tiny bubbles of air decorating the threads. The floats payed out across the surface like a fine necklace of rubies. Father spat on the marker for luck and threw it overboard. The water fizzed and bubbled as it surfaced.

The relentless monotony of checking the catch frustrated her so much. Once in a blue moon there would be a surprise in store for them, a salmon for instance. A dolphin had got caught upon one occasion, and had drowned. Their glee had quickly turned to horror as they realised what an agonising death it had endured, starved of oxygen. Its lungs filled up with fluid, as it thrashed and tore at the mesh in a vain attempt to survive.

She stood in the prow and just listened to the roar of the waves as they rose and fell. Force three or I'm a dutchman, she thought, happy for once that the shipping forecast had been wrong. The wind merely ruffled her hair as she gazed at the empty horizon. Not even a lone gull broke its seamless line. As the sun sank and melted into the waves the sky began to colour slightly. She could make out a pink tinge on the undersides of the clouds that seemed to darken to crimson before her eyes. It was as if they were full of blood. She imagined that all she had to do was touch them to make that blood dribble down into the ocean below.

To her these new waters held a dark, brooding menace she could not put a name to. Perhaps that was why she dreamed up the hideous leviathans that followed their little craft's very movement from beneath. They swam too many fathoms deep to be identified properly. Huge, slow-moving shadows that slipped along silently without disturbing the currents. The waters had a strange quality. They shifted and bubbled like the molten metal in the great crucible of Solomon's temple.

It surprised her when her mind wandered like this. Looking at her father through the spray, it seemed hard to imagine his mind straying from the endless quest for food. The fish stocks In the area were all but exhausted, making it necessary to venture further and further into uncharted waters. With every trip it seemed the catch was diminishing. They caught more seaweed than anything else these days.

They were being slowly starved like that dolphin.

What else could they do but fish the offshore waters? They knew no other trade. The sea was both their employer and mistress. It controlled their lives utterly. She shivered and rubbed her eyes wearily. None of it was real. It was just a bad feeling, that was all. She looked on as her father tapped his finger to the rhythm of the tune that was playing on the wireless In the cockpit.

The music faded and the wireless crackled: 'Here is the shipping forecast, ..south-westerly force seven, veering north-westeriy...'      She caught his eye momentarily, then looked down. 'Is that bad?'

     'Bad enough, Sarah. It means the wind will be on the prow,' said her father, grimly. If we keep going there's no telling how long well last. If we turn back, we'll hit the storm head on. Catch twenty-two.'

Sarah already knew the rest. As her father's words sank in. her heart felt as heavy as the purple clouds overhead. For days they slept in shifts, barely leaving enough time to wash and change in between as they kept watch on the horizon for some recognisable landmark. They were both wet, cold and exhausted. Sarah even found herself putting off going to the toilet. The laborious effort of removing the oilskins and boots involved contortions a circus performer would be proud of. Seasickness had scrambled her senses to the extent that she barely knew her own name anymore.

After a night of being pummelled by gales, the engine broke down. Its power had been vital for lighting and navigation. Their water ration had dwindled to no more than a few cups. They both accepted the inevitable. It would be madness to go any further.

As threads of dawn-light unfurled from the east they were perched on the foredeck in the gloom, secured by short harnesses, reefing a foresail as the waves broke over the bow, and over father and daughter.

Sarah performed her duties in the certain knowledge that falling overboard left one with little hope of survival. Yet she had toiled hard with scant regard for her own safety, until that moment. 'We can't just give in', she thought.

Gazing out over the breakers they seemed to rise and fall hypnotically. Sarah's vision began to blur with fatigue, putting a hand out to steady herself she gently lowered herself into her seat in the cockpit.
Presently she found her head nodding on to her breast as she drifted off into a deep sleep. The last thing she saw before oblivion overwhelmed her was her father's benevolent smile as he wrapped a shawl tenderly around her shoulders, then he too sank into his position beside her, his arm warm and comforting. She slumbered fitfully; her dreams punctuated by nightmarish visions of whales and porpoises thrashing and writhing as they fled in terror from some vast unseen predator.
Sarah awoke with a start. The boat was shuddering. This was not the natural action of the vessel: this was being caused by an external force.

     'Dad?' she tried to rouse him. 'What's going on?'

He was breathing shallowly but seemed contented enough so she thought it best to leave him sleeping. It was up to her then, she thought. Covering him with the shawl she clambered up the steps to the deck. The boat was listing badly and the bows were awash with seaweed and foam as she felt her way gingerly across it to a small hatch set into the deck. The hatch was heavy and it took all her strength to lift it. Sarah heaved it open and the panel slammed down hard beside the opening. Peering inside It didn't take long to decide that the engine was useless. The compartment was full of seawater which could only have come from beneath. They must have been holed below the water line.

Whatever was causing the vibration had probably caused this damage as well. Something caught her eye off the port bow. A large circle of foam had appeared on the surface no more than twenty feet away. The water boiled and frothed as something huge and terrifying emerged from the briny.

Scared rigid, she hung on to the hatch as the leviathan rose up menacingly from the ocean, water cascading like a multitude of tiny waterfalls down its flank. It was a massive tubular object measuring roughly one hundred feet in length and was as black as night. Casting no reflection it actually seemed to swallow light itself. About halfway along its bulk was a tower that stood proud of the body by some twenty feet.

Decorating this was a single round of glass glistening like an eye in the hazy sunlight, blank and sightless.

Sarah was shaken from her trance by the shocked realisation that this monster had somehow got caught up in the nets. The tiny trawler, dwarfed by the giant, was being dragged along helplessly. Sooner or later It would dive and drag them to their doom. Clinging on to the rail, she made her way below and began turning out the lockers. Where were the life-jackets?

     'Daddy!' she cried, tearfully. 'Daddy...' she said again, her voice no more than a croak. 'Please wake up.'

Water began to spill over the steps and cascade down into the cabin rising quickly to knee-level. Grabbing her father under his arms she hauled him up the steps and onto the deck. Fear had somehow given her strength the necessary boost. There was a chance that if they could make their presence known then someone or something might save them.

It was clearly too late for the trawler now. Listing badly and half submerged, there was no way it would remain afloat. With a low groan it rolled over onto its side, ditching its passengers into the freezing water.

With one hand she held on to a rope dangling from the side of the boat, with the other she cradled her father's unconscious body. With a roar the black monster began to dive. The nets became taut and, slowly at first, the trawler slipped further beneath the waves.

Sarah became somewhat detached at that moment. How graceful it all seemed. How silent it had all become. It was as if someone had pressed a mute button on some global remote control. She did not even feel the coldness of the waves which should, by now, have stopped her heart from beating. All feeling had gone from her limbs and she could not help but release her father's body which floated away from her, face down in the water. She watched him go with a sense of relief more than anything else. He was free and now it was her turn for release. The rope slipped from her fingers and she felt the undertow pull her below the surface, away from the hull of the trawler.

Eyes open, she marvelled at the thousands of tiny bubbles that rushed over her face and through her hair. She let the water flood into her nose and mouth. The fear had gone now and had been replaced with a sense of pure wonder.
Deeper and deeper she sank, drifting in a dream-like limbo, the colour of the water darkening with each fathom until all was black. It was everything and nothing yet somehow she knew she could control the blackness and make it do her will. She was not afraid of it.

All at once she knew that there was a destination tor her. She knew she had it within her to get to the other side. Slowly, she turned and swam toward the seabed.

The pressure increased markedly and she felt the blood vessels in her eyes begin to burst. Undeterred she swam on through the swirling currents until she felt the mud swallow her up and she lay there, very still.