St George high-diving

St. George focused on the spot between his shoulder blades and shot into the sky.
He ****ed in air. He’d read somewhere, ages back, it was more efficient to take lots of short, quick breaths than one long one. He ****ed in air again and again and his chest expanded as he arced across the sky, passing over the oil tanker, a smaller yacht, and the tugboat.
Then he kicked his feet up, pointed his hands down, and accelerated toward the water.
Hitting it wasn’t as bad this time. He was going faster, but he was prepared, like a high-diver knifing into the water. Bubbles roared in his ears. Salt pricked at his eyes. The hull of the yacht rushed past him, and then there was the tanker a little farther off.

Excerpt From Ex-Isle, pg 530-531
Peter Clines
https://books.apple.com/us/book/ex-isle/id989619017