Predators I Have Known - Alan Dean Foster [35]
What about a shark? And not just any shark, but a serious shark like the silvertip?
I looked around. Visibility on the isolated reef verged on unlimited. As is my preference at such times, I was off a little ways by myself. No one was watching me. That was hardly surprising, with eight silvertips circulating steadily among us. Movement in the water made me look to my left. One was coming straight toward me. Several had already done so, passing as close to where I was crouching as college friends in a crowded bar. Swimming slowly and without concern, its tail moving back and forth like a metronome to propel it through the water, the silvertip passed directly over my head. Its white belly gleamed like buffed fiberglass.
There are moments in our lives when we do something we have often thought about doing but never really expected to do. When such an occasion actually arrives, the time for acting on impulse usually lasts little more than a second or two. Spend time in judicious contemplation of the action itself and in a wink the opportunity is gone, usually forever.
Extending myself slightly, I reached up and let my bare fingertips trail along the silvertip’s underside. The flesh was firm to the touch, like a tire. Surprised but not unsettled by the contact, the silvertip gave a wider twitch of its tail and accelerated slightly.
That was all. That was everything.
Later, out of the water and back on the boat, Captain Dave confronted me privately. Everyone else was otherwise occupied, having doffed their dive gear and retired to their cabins or gathered excitedly around the coffeemaker to discuss the remarkable encounter they had just experienced.
“I saw what you did.” His tone was accusatory.
I protested. “It was OK. I was careful, and gentle. I’ve been around plenty of sharks.” I did not add that I was not in the habit of stroking them.
He nodded thoughtfully. “Just don’t do it again.” And then he added, because I was a paying passenger and he preferred to advise and not command, “Please?”
His request was moot because the opportunity did not arise again. We were given one dive at Silvertip Reef and one only. It was the last real dive of our trip before we returned to Kavieng. Understandably, the dive boat operators who managed to get out this far always saved Silvertip Reef for last because they knew that no matter how good or bad all the preceding dives had been, a visit to the reef would by itself be sufficient to make any diver’s trip a great one.
Many years passed before I happened to hear that the wonders of Silvertip Reef were no more. Learning of its secret, a group of local fishermen had gone out with chum, drawn in the sharks, and caught and killed every one of them, probably just for their fins. I think I remember crying when I read that. Having seen a great deal of serious poverty and severe hardship around the world, it’s hard for me to judge and condemn such actions. But this was one instance in which I could not help myself.
* * *
Silvertips may be the dominant shark in the Bismarck Sea, but that doesn’t mean you should ignore the others. On a dive close to the island of New Ireland, I suddenly found myself fighting an unexpectedly strong shallow-water current. While my fellow divers successfully descended and made their way along a deep reef line, I was picked up, swept backward, and carried away from them. While I enjoy being on my own underwater, I do not like being caught up in currents I can’t swim against.
Like a good swimmer, a good diver knows that you don’t fight a current. The ocean being somewhat bigger and stronger than the most powerful swimmer, it’s not only futile but dangerous to try and battle it head-on. Swim sideways out of the current, or look for something to hold on to, or drift with it until you can safely