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There was a crackle of static from the walkie-talkie. Sorensen called, “Eakins, have you got that message off?”

“Haven’t sent it,” Eakins called back. “Listen, Bill. We mustn’t send any messages! That bug wants—” He stopped abruptly.

“What is it?” Sorensen asked. “What’s happening?”

Eakins had appeared on deck, still holding the walkie-talkie. He was backing toward the stern.

“Hermit crabs,” he said. “They climbed up the anchor line. I’m going to swim to shore.”

“Don’t do it,” Sorensen said.

“Gotta do it,” Eakins said. “They’ll probably follow me. All of you come out here and get that transmitter. Bring it ashore.”

Through his binoculars, Sorensen could see a solid gray carpet of hermit crabs crawling down the deck and waterways of the ketch. Eakins jumped into the water. He swam furiously toward shore, and Sorensen saw the rats turn and follow him. Hermit crabs swarmed off the boat, and the wild pig and the anteater paddled after him, trying to head him off before he reached the beach.