The barracuda was definitely angry. It writhed and banged on the slippery deck, its jaws in spasm, snapping the air. It wanted revenge. I couldn't bring myself to look.
I stared at the sky. The weather due north of us was awful.
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Hooked by magic of Mauritius
Travel: The Indian Ocean paradise sets its barbs into Tom Adair and reels in another convert extolling the virtues of the island.
