It was the size a tad less than the tip of your forefinger, of a proud uniform orangish brown colour from its abdomen to its antenna. With those antenna, long, wavy and thrashing the air like a whiplash, it was an eye catching creature, scurrying across the damp, coarse surface of the thin plank of wood a hands reach away from me. And for some reason, right in front of me, it turned and stopped. It now faced me, like a bull about to charge at its bull fighter. The combination of that angry orange and the incessant probing of the long antenna, akin to a swordsman intimidating his opponent with an artful movement of his sword before a fight, intimidated me. I grew nervous. "I think its going to jump at you", my friend laughed. And it suddenly jumped at me. Like an almost knee jerk reaction, my natural instincts assumed control of my panic stricken mind. First task, spot the devil. My eyes scanned the fading orange expanse of my life jacket. Nope, not there. Next, my expos