Predators I Have Known by Alan Dean Foster Page B

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 surface and call for help.
    There was no reason to panic. The current was propelling me along the outer edge of our chosen reef. At worst, I could surface and swim to one of two nearby islets. The dive boat itself was not far away. So I relaxed and, like a commuter on a train, watched the world go by.
    It turned out that a certain segment of the world going by was also watching me.
    There were six of them. Juvenile gray reef sharks, the largest no more than three feet long. Not exactly Jaws, but not domesticated koi, either. They were following me in single file, for all the world like boys trailing their scoutmaster. I kept an eye on them as I enjoyed my colorful surroundings. At any moment, I expected them to become bored and peel off in search of more interesting and easily consumable intruders. They did not.
    They were still with me when I started to run low on air. Having half a dozen young sharks tracking you while you are submerged only adds to the beauty and exoticism of your surroundings. Having them interested in you while you are stuck floating on the surface is another matter entirely.
    The current had finally succumbed to the influence of the nearby islands, allowing me to maneuver more freely. Before I surfaced and hailed the pickup boat, I decided something had to be done about my persistent