Buttercup hesitated, silently treading water. Around her now, although it was surely her imagination, she seemed to be hearing the swish of giant tails.
“Come back and come back now. There will be no other warning.”
Buttercup thought, If I come back, they’ll kill me anyway, so what’s the difference?
“The difference is—”
There he goes doing that again, thought Buttercup. He really is a mind reader.
“—if you come back now,” the Sicilian went on, “I give you my word as a gentleman and assassin that you will die totally without pain. I assure you, you will get no such promise from the sharks.”
The fish sounds in the night were closer now.
Buttercup began to tremble with fear. She was terribly ashamed of herself but there it was. She only wished she could see for a minute if there really were sharks and if he really would cut himself.
The Sicilian winced out loud.
“He just cut his arm, lady,” the Turk called out. “He’s catching the blood in a cup now. There must be a half-inch of blood on the bottom.”
The Sicilian winced again.
“He cut his leg this time,” the Turk went on. “The cup’s getting full.”
I don’t believe them, Buttercup thought. There are no sharks in the water and there is no blood in his cup.
“My arm is back to throw,” the Sicilian said. “Call out your location or not, the choice is yours.”
I’m not making a peep, Buttercup decided.
“Farewell,” from the Sicilian.
There was the splashing sound of liquid landing on liquid.
Then there came a pause.
Then the sharks went mad—
‘She does not get eaten by the sharks at this time,’ my father said.
I looked up at him. ‘What?’
‘You looked like you were getting too involved and bothered so I thought I would let you relax.’
‘Oh, for Pete’s sake,’ I said, you ‘d think I was a baby or something. What kind of stuff is that?’ I really sounded put out, but I’ll tell you the truth: I was getting a little too involved and I was glad he told me. I mean, when you’re a kid, you don’t think, Well, since the book’s called The Princess Bride and since we’re barely into it, obviously, the author’s not about to make shark kibble of his leading lady. You get hooked on things when you’re a youngster; so to any youngsters reading, I’ll simply repeat my father’s words since they worked to soothe me: ‘She does not get eaten by the sharks at this time.’
Then the sharks went mad. All around her, Buttercup could hear them beeping and screaming and thrashing their mighty tails. Nothing can save me, Buttercup realized. I’m a dead cookie.
Fortunately for all concerned save the sharks, it was around this time that the moon came out.
“There she is,” shouted the Sicilian, and like lightning the Spaniard turned the boat and as the boat drew close the Turk reached out a giant arm and then she was back in the safety of her murderers while all around them the sharks bumped each other in wild frustration.
“Keep her warm,” the Spaniard said from the tiller, tossing his cloak to the Turk.
“Don’t catch cold,” the Turk said, wrapping Buttercup into the cloak’s folds.
“It doesn’t seem to matter all that much,” she answered, “seeing you’re killing me at dawn.”
“He’ll do the actual work,” the Turk said, indicating the Sicilian, who was wrapping cloth around his cuts. “We’ll just hold you.”
“Hold your stupid tongue,” the Sicilian commanded.