03 Underwater Adventure Page 6

  Chapter 7

  Are sharks dangerous?

  The big mako shark had returned and lay just under the surface a few yards off the port beam.

  ‘Wish he’d go away,’ Blake said. ‘It’s a bit risky -doing any more diving while he’s around.’

  ‘He didn’t make trouble when Omo grabbed one of his remoras,’ Hal remarked.

  ‘Omo took him by surprise. But he came back. The way he keeps switching that tail, I think he’s a little annoyed with us. These mako can be man-eaters.’

  ‘I heard a lecturer say that all sharks are cowards,’ Hal said.

  Blake laughed. ‘Perhaps he felt safe because he had a good solid platform under his feet and there were no sharks on the stage. And even if sharks were cowards, don’t forget that cowards are often bullies. Isn’t that true among humans? I know I’m more afraid of a coward than of a brave man.’

  Hal thought of Skink, and nodded. Yes, Skink was a good example. He was to be feared in spite of the fact that he was a coward. He was to be feared because he was a coward.

  ‘But I wouldn’t agree that all sharks are cowards,’ went on Dr Blake. ‘When a shark is hungry enough or mad enough it will attack a whale ten times its own size. It will even try to fight a ship. There have been numerous instances of sharks plunging their teeth into a ship’s hull, sometimes even sinking the ship.’

  ‘I suppose some sharks are more dangerous than others.’

  ‘That’s it There are more kinds of sharks than of cats. And the man who says sharks aren’t dangerous has probably met only the mild sorts. Besides, even the dangerous kinds aren’t always dangerous. A shark that has just had a good dinner isn’t interested in picking a quarrel. A tiger shark is as gentle as a kitten when well fed and a holy terror when starving. And sharks have emotions, just like people. If you go near them when they happen to be in a bad mood, look out.’

  Dr Blake ran his finger along the outline of an ugly scar on his right foot.

  ‘Another thing about sharks that makes them a lot like us,’ he said, ‘is that they make mistakes. I got that because a shark made a mistake. It saw my foot and thought it was a fish. Anything that flickers will attract a shark. That’s why the Loyalty Islanders tie a dark cloth over the soles of their feet when diving. The sole of the foot and the palm of the hand are generally brighter than the rest of the body. The shark can’t see too well, and it may snap at the small flashing thing without realizing that it is taking on more than it intended.’ Omo, who was listening, said: T don’t know why, but the place makes a difference. The sharks at Huahine never hurt anyone, but exactly the same kind of shark in the Tuamotus is a killer.’

  ‘Perhaps they have plenty to eat in the one place, not much in the other,’ Blake suggested. ‘Or perhaps the Huahine people taught the sharks to be afraid of man, and the Tuamotu islanders didn’t. Captain, what’s your opinion? Are sharks dangerous?’

  Captain Ike screwed up his wrinkled face and clamped his teeth on the stem of his pipe.

  ‘I’ve known sharks for forty years,’ he said, ‘and the better I know ‘em the less I like ‘em. You can’t make friends with a shark. Last time I was in Australia they gave me some figures: sixty-nine people killed by sharks on that coast in thirty years, one hundred and five wounded, two boats sunk, thirteen boats attacked. ‘Fella down there caught one of those hammerheads that some people say are harmless. When he opened it up he found a human skull. Right over here at Ponape, next island to this one, they took a white shark. Its stomach contained a bag of money and the remains of a woman and child.

  ‘And this mako …’ Captain Ike looked over the rail at the sinister blue-grey form, ‘he’s a mean one! He has teeth as big as shovels and sharp as razors. He’s one of the fastest fish in the sea - and what a jumper! One of

  his favourite tricks is to jump fifteen or twenty feet into the air, and come down wham, on a small boat and smash it to kindling.

  ‘No,’ he concluded, 1 don’t trust sharks. Half of the time they’ll run away from you. It’s the other half of the time you have to worry about.’

  The mako still waited. Luncheon was called and everybody went below. When they came back on deck, the shark was still there.

  Blake scowled. ‘Perhaps he thinks this is his own special bailiwick. Well, if he won’t move, we will. Captain, let’s try it over behind Tol Island.’

  The captain up-anchored and, using the engine only, lazied the schooner eight miles down to the western part of the lagoon. There he dropped anchor in ten fathoms.

  There was no sign of the shark. ‘Believe we’ve shaken him off,’ Blake said hopefully. ‘The coral formations look interesting here. Let’s see if we can get some pictures.’

  The photographic equipment was brought up and Blake and Hal checked it with care. Hal was an ardent and experienced photographer, but this would be his first try at taking pictures under water.

  The cameras were a 35-mm loaded with colour film, a 2£X2£ reflex with black-and-white film, and a 16-mm motion picture camera. Each camera was housed in a watertight aluminium box with bronze fittings and a glass front.

  Blake, finishing his work, went to the rail and looked about. He groaned. There, only twenty feet away, floated the mako monster. Its head was turned towards the ship and its beady eyes seemed to be fixed upon Blake. It was like a challenge.

  Blake accepted the challenge. ‘All right, old boy, people call you the man-eater. We’ll come in and see if you live up to your name.’

  He summoned his. assistants for a conference. ‘Since this big fellow won’t go away, we’ll use him. The Institute has been studying the habits of sharks and we can make a contribution by studying this one. We were discussing the question, Are sharks dangerous? Here’s a good chance to find out. We can test the various methods of protection against a shark. Some divers put their faith in a knife. Others say a knife is no good - that a shark billy is better.’ ‘What’s a shark billy?’ Roger asked. ‘A club - like a policeman’s.’ ‘Would that have any effect on a shark?’ ‘It might - if you bang him on the nose with it. His nose is very sensitive. Some say you can scare a shark by shouting at it. Some believe air bubbles frighten a shark. Some think it’s just a matter of keeping your nerve - that the shark can tell when you’re afraid. Then there’s cupric acetate.’ ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s a shark-repellent. Scientists learned that a shark won’t touch a dead shark that has decayed. So they have taken some of the chemical that forms in decaying shark meat and combined it with a dark nigrosine dye to make small cakes sealed in waterproof envelopes. You attach one to your ankle. When you meet a shark you tear open the envelope and the cake dissolves. If it works as it’s supposed to, the shark will turn up its nose at you and swim away.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Skink sneered, ‘you plan to stay snug on deck while we go down and risk our lives making these fool experiments.’

  MM

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Blake answered, ‘I’ll make the experiments myself. We must keep a record of the tests, and the best possible record will be a motion picture. I don’t order anybody to risk his life, but if there is someone who feels like volunteering to do the camera work …’

  ‘That’s for me,’ interjected Hal, fearing that someone might get in a bid before him.

  ‘Then what do I do?’ complained Roger.

  ‘I’d rather you’d stay on board,’ Blake said. ‘This is not a game for boys.’

  But Roger objected so bitterly to this arrangement that Blake relented. ‘Very well, you can come in, but stay at a safe distance. Keep close to the ship. Have your knife handy and if we need you we’ll signal. Inkham can stay there with you.’

  Skink’s jaw dropped. His eyes went to the waiting shark and his face paled. But he tried to put on a bold front.

  ‘Nothing I’d like better than to take on that shark single-handed. But I’m afraid I’ll have to miss the fun this time. My leg, you know - it’s still so numb I wouldn’t be able to swim. I’ll
have to stay on deck.’

  Blake nodded. ‘Sorry your leg is bothering you again. It seemed all right when you went down the companionway to lunch.’

  ‘Yes,’ admitted Skink, ‘but you use a different set of muscles for swimming, and they’re still paralysed.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s your nerve that is paralysed instead of your muscles,’ suggested Blake.

  Skink began to bluster but was interrupted by the appearance of Omo carrying a blazing acetylene torch. It had been adjusted for underwater work. Over the tip was fitted an air sheath through which compressed air would make a bubble extending out of the flame to protect it from the water.

  ‘Where are you off to?’ Hal asked.

  ‘The captain wants me to do a little work on the keelson. The metal snapped when we struck one of those coral heads. It needs a bit of welding.’

  He dropped over the side. The torch still blazed bravely under the surface. Omo disappeared under the hulL Dr Blake, Hal and Roger put on their masks, fins, aqualungs.-and weighted belts. Each belt already carried a sheath knife and now a shark billy was thrust in beside it Packets of cupric acetate were strapped to the ankles.

  ‘But we’ll make the other experiments first,’ Blake advised. ‘Don’t open the envelopes until I give the signal.’

  They descended the ladder into the lagoon. Blake swam slowly towards the shark, and Hal, armed with the motion picture camera, followed.

  Roger unwillingly did as he had been told. He stayed near the ship.

  He did not enjoy being treated like a child. He was almost as strong as the other two, and as good a swimmer. Angry and rebellious, he almost hoped something would happen so that he would have to rush in to the rescue. He drew his knife and waited impatiently.

  Dr Blake proceeded with his experiments. First he tested the theory that a shark will retreat if you show no fear and swim straight towards him. He started towards the mako. Hal started the camera.

  The mako paid no attention to the approaching form until it came within ten feet. Then he moved his tail lazily and fell away to one side.

  Again Blake advanced and again the mako moved out of his path - but not so far this time.

  Upon the third advance, the mako did not budge. Blake stopped within five feet of the big muzzle.

  The evidence seemed to be, at least so far as this shark was concerned, that it would retreat at first before a resolute advance, but that this technique could not be relied upon to scare the beast away.

  Blake found himself uncomfortably close to the object of his study. But now would be a good time to test the bubble theory. He took a deep breath, then exhaled sharply and a great volume of bubbles rose from the regulator at the back of his neck.

  Perhaps this might have frightened a smaller fish, but the mako was not disturbed. He seemed to be studying Blake as intently as Blake was studying him. Dr Blake began to feel like the specimen instead of the experimenter.

  Blake began to move away. The shark immediately followed him. It kept the distance between them at about five feet. This was not enough for comfort, and Blake, becoming a little excited, struck out, splashing hands and feet.

  At once the shark began to close in on him. It showed its instinct to attack anything that seemed to be wounded or afraid.

  Blake bottled his fear and turned to face the shark, waving his arms menacingly.

  At once the shark stopped, but now it was only four feet away.

  Blake tested another theory. It was that a shark is more likely to attack at or near the surface because that is where it finds most of its food, helpless or dying fish, garbage from ships. At greater depths it is more wary.

  Blake exhaled and sank slowly through the blue-green depths. The shark promptly came down after him but now did not venture so close. It began to circle him at a distance of fifteen or twenty feet.

  Suddenly the shark noticed Hal who was still operating the camera from quite near the surface. The great tail gave one mighty thrash and the body shot up towards the big glassy eye of the machine.

  Mixed with Hal’s fear was the thrill of photographing an oncoming shark. It loomed bigger and bigger and kept on coming. Hal kept his finger on the button and the film whirred through the camera. Now the great head filled the whole picture. Now a cave yawned as the monster opened its savage mouth, revealing rows of sharp white shovels.

  With all his strength Hal banged the heavy metal-encased camera against the brute’s nose.

  Promptly it changed course, sliding past him and scraping the skin from his shoulder with its sandpaper hide.

  Hal turned to face another attack, but now he was joined by Blake who tested the merits of his shark billy by bringing it down with a resounding whack on the already bruised nose of the mako.

  The shark swam away but immediately returned in a more deadly mood than ever.

  Roger could not stay on the sidelines any longer. He swam in with his knife bared. He disregarded Hal’s violent gestures warning him to stay out of range.

  The shark saw him and came for him, its open mouth as big as a barrel. At the last moment, Roger twisted to one side and gripped the right pectoral fin. Hanging on

  to it, he was dragged along by the big fish. He sank his knife into the white underbelly. Red blood gushed forth.

  Blake had clutched the other pectoral fin and his knife was sinking deep and often into the great carcass. Hal knew his duty as a photographer and kept the camera whirring. This was a picture of pictures.

  The smell of the blood spreading through the water brought a sudden rush of new visitors. Sharks appeared from nowhere, from everywhere, ravenous beasts, fearless with blood lust.

  Blake and Roger fell away from the bleeding mako and left it to the furious attacks of its brother sharks. The pink water boiled with the thrashing of their great tails.

  All would have been well if the savage creatures had kept their attention on the wounded mako, but in their fury they were ready to attack and devour anything. They lunged at the swimmers who wielded their shark billies and knives with deadly effect.

  Blake ripped open the envelope on his ankle and signalled to the others to do the same. The cupric acetate spread a yellow tinge to join the pink of the blood-stained sea.

  However much this repellent might have deterred a shark under normal circumstances, it had no effect whatever upon this bloodthirsty mob. The big fish were at too high a pitch of excitement to be discouraged by an unpleasant smell.

  The three swimmers moved back cautiously towards the ship, fighting a rearguard action against the demented beasts. Here were mako sharks, blue sharks, white sharks and hammerheads, all of them intent on snapping up these human morsels floating in the pink sea.

  Reaching the foot of the ladder, Blake seized Roger and made him go up first. But when nothing of Roger was left in the water except his feet, a mako lunged at those white fishlike things with such determination that Roger had to drop back into the sea to defend himself.

  Above, leaning over the rail of the Lively Lady, was the laughing face of Skink. He was enjoying this spectacle enormously. Blake called to him to come down and help, but he blithely declined the invitation. No spectator ever enjoyed seeing the Christians thrown to the lions in a Roman arena more than Skink delighted in the death struggle of his three companions.

  But he sang a different tune when a mako, making one of those high jumps for which the mako are famous, sprang a full fifteen feet into the air and came crashing down on the rail, smashing it to bits. The big body slid across the deck, scraping off generous portions of Skink’s hide as it passed.

  This was enough to remove any lingering numbness that might have remained in Skink’s leg. He jumped like a jack-rabbit for the ratlines and swarmed up to the crow’s nest. In this retreat he crouched, shivering lest one of the terrible acrobats of the sea might reach him even here.

  Blake and Hal made another attempt to hoist Roger up the ladder, but again the sharks destroyed their plan. Roger dropped back into t
he sea.

  The situation had become desperate. All three swimmers had reached the limit of their strength and of their wits. The end could not be far off, and Hal found himself regretting that the wonderful film in the camera would sink to the bottom of the lagoon where no audience would ever view it.

  Roger sank some distance to a point where, looking up, he happened to see Omo working on the far side of the hull with his acetylene torch, quite unaware of the battle being fought on the other side of the ship.

  With powerful strokes Roger shot up to Omo’s side and snatched the acetylene torch from the hands of the astonished crewman. Holding the flame-spitting machine, he swam under the keelson and came up into the churning mob of sharks.

  Like King Arthur with the burning sword Excalibur, Roger attacked his enemies. The flame with its temperature of 3,600 degrees, a flame that could cut steel, was too much even for a blood-maddened shark.

  A big white shark limped away with a hole as big as a tub burned in the side of its head. In the time that it would take to open its mouth, a blue shark lost its lower jaw. The knight of the Round Table next took on a hammerhead which stumbled away with one of its hammers gone.

  Here, there, up and down, flashed the deadly flame. The berserk fish came back to their senses, forgot about blood, forgot about everything except that scorching dagger, and fled for their lives in all directions.

  Mute with astonishment, Blake and Hal waited at the foot of the ladder. There was not a shark in sight. Roger took the torch back to Omo, then joined them at the ladder. They climbed to the deck. The rail was smashed on both beams, where the leaping shark had landed and where it had slid off again into the sea. From the crow’s-nest peered down the frightened face of Skink.

  The three fighters dropped wearily to the deck. Hal set the camera down tenderly. In that camera was the greatest picture of a shark battle ever filmed.

  Blake was looking at Roger as if he had never seen him before. ‘My boy,’ he said, ‘I want to apologize for putting you on the sidelines. Why, you’re a better man than any of us. Your wit saved us from a very messy death.’