Shark Trouble by Peter Benchley Page B

an object of desire for an oceanic whitetip. My celebrated broomstick is about to meet its end.
    Â© ABC SPORTS

    Riding a giant manta ray in the Sea of Cortez. A second after he took this picture, Stan Waterman had his face mask knocked off and his nose bloodied by one of the manta’s wings.
    Â© STAN WATERMAN

    Stan Waterman,
left,
one of America’s pioneer divers and underwater filmmakers, a gentle man of consummate charm and grace.
    Â© HOWARD HALL/HOWARDHALL.COM

    Stan greeting—while attempting to film—a whale shark, the biggest fish in the sea.
    Â© MARJORIE BANK

    An armada of scalloped hammerheads in the Sea of Cortez. No one knows for certain why they gather in such numbers—perhaps it’s a ritual related to breeding—but they seem to have no interest whatsoever in human beings.
    Â© HOWARD HALL/HOWARDHALL.COM

    A silvertip in the South Pacific, one of the “sharkiest-looking” of all shark species.
    Â© JENNIFER HAYES

    One of several species of bull shark—unpredictable and dangerous.
    Â© HOWARD HALL/HOWARDHALL.COM

    Prey’s-eye view of a great white ambushing from behind and below. Many professional shark wranglers believe that if you’re under water and a great white shows an aggressive interest in you, the smartest thing to do is ascertain that the shark
knows
you’ve seen it. Great whites depend so much on the element of surprise for a successful attack, says this theory, that if they know you’ve seen them, more often than not they’ll abandon the attack on you and go instead in search of easier prey.
    Â© JENNIFER HAYES

10
    What to Do When Good Dives Go Bad
    Â 
    Usually, when you’re diving—be it for sight-seeing, sport, or business—you don’t want to see sharks, any more than you want to meet up with a bear while you’re walking in the woods or with a pack of wolves while you’re cross-country skiing.
    Apex predators—the creatures at the top of the food chain that, generally, have no natural enemies except others of their own species (and, of course, man)—have a way of spoiling your whole day, even if they don’t chase you down and tear you to bits in an aberrant fit of madness or hunger.
    If you’ve had good training and/or a lot of experience as a diver, you know how to cope with equipment failures, symptoms of the several afflictions that can befall you under water, and other routine emergencies. (“Routine emergencies” is not an oxymoron, by the way, not when referring to the underwater world. Running out of air is a routine emergency: there are ways to deal with the problem, and often it is preceded by warning signs. Nonroutine emergencies strike from nowhere, are impossible to prepare for, and can cascade with unbelievable speed into disaster.)
    No matter how experienced or well trained you are, however, you can never be completely prepared for the sudden appearance of one or more aggressive sharks. The reason? Here it comes again:
no matter how much we think we know, the truth is, none of us knows for certain what any shark will or won’t do in a given situation.
    Always remember that the shark is on its home range, and you are the intruder. Think of yourself as a trespasser in a yard posted with signs warning BEWARE OF SHARKS .
    And if you see a shark, or sharks, try to keep it in view while you decide what to do next.
    There are some cardinal rules for divers, but none of them is a guarantee. Here are some that, to me, make the most practical sense:
    Rule #1: If you’re diving on a reef and you see a shark, any shark, and it begins to behave erratically—shaking its head, hunching its back, lowering its pectoral fins—you’re probably being shown a territorial threat display, a warning to
scram
. Take it seriously. Slowly and calmly retreat. Get out of the water if possible, but at least get away from the area and to a part of the reef where you can find