Mr Big stood on the jetty and supervised the process of binding them together.
 `Strip her,” he said to Solitaire’s guard...
Solitaire’s clothes were cut off her with a knife. She stood pale and naked...
“Their legs can stay free,” he said. “They’ll make appetising bait.” He stepped from the jetty onto the deck of the yacht...
    The screws churned up the still water and with the engines at half speed ahead the Secatur slid swiftly away from the island.
Mr. Big went aft and sat down in the fishing chair. They could see his eyes fixed on them. He said nothing. He just watched.
    The Secatur cut through the water toward the reef. Bond could see the cable to the paravane snaking over the side. The paravane started to move softly after the ship. Suddenly it put its nose down, then righted itself and sped away, its rudder pulling out and away from the wake of the ship.
    The coil of rope beside them sprang into life.
`Look out,” said Bond urgently, holding tighter to the girl.
Their arms were pulled almost out of their sockets as they were jerked together off the jetty and into the sea.
    For a second they both went under, then they were on the surface, their joined bodies smashing through the water...
They were ploughing through the sea at about three knots... Only forty yards to go before they hit the coral.
    The Secatur would be just through the reef. Bond gathered his breath. It must be past six by now. What happened to that blasted mine?... `Breathe, Solitaire, breathe,’ he shouted as they got underway and the water hissed past them.
Now they were flying over the sea toward the crouching reef...
Thirty yards to go, twenty, ten.
Jesus Christ, thought Bond. We’re for it. He braced his muscles to take the crashing, searing pain, edged Solitaire further above to protect her from the worst of it.
    James Bond, in this second of the series, Live and Let Die, was definitely beginning to get into his stride.