Even though Dantès was stunned and could barely breathe, his survival instincts kicked in hard. He held his breath and gripped the knife he'd kept ready in his right hand. Working frantically, he slashed through the heavy sack that was meant to be his burial shroud, freeing first his arm, then his whole body.
But the cannonball tied to his legs was still dragging him down toward the ocean floor. Fighting against the crushing weight of water above him, he bent his body and made one desperate cut, severing the rope around his ankles just as his lungs were about to give out.
With a powerful kick, he rocketed toward the surface while the cannonball and empty sack plummeted into the darkness below.
The moment his head broke the surface, Dantès gasped for air, then immediately dove back under to avoid being spotted. When he surfaced again fifty yards away, his heart was pounding as he took in his surroundings.
