The World’s Greatest Shark Hunter
Jon Kuntz
He was crouching behind a coral ledge, quickly scanning all around and above him, thirty feet to the surface. He was thinking, “It could have been thirty miles.”
He knew the Blue Shark was lurking somewhere, most likely waiting for him to make a move. Visibility was fifty feet, actually quite good, but that shark could cover the distance in a second. Even with good visibility, a Blue was almost invisible. It had an uncanny way of looking translucent in the water. Norm knew Barracuda had that same capability, but at least they showed a side view. The shark wasn’t as readily seen, because he presented a frontal view to his prospective prey.
Norm knew the Blue hadn’t attacked him, or he’d be a goner. No, he was just doing the “sniff test,” rubbing a prospect with that big sandpaper nose, to find out if it were edible. If it returned, it would be for one purpose only.
One very large problem was his bleeding. When the Blue hit him, the force of it drove him into coral rock. It was like falling on a hundred tiny razor blades. He was bleeding pretty badly, on his side, arm and leg. He had heard that coral secretes a chemical that deters clotting. It’s possibly true, because coral is both plant and animal by grand design. It probably takes nutrition from blood.
But, Norm had bigger problems. He needed to figure a way to get to the surface, without getting eaten by the biggest Blue Shark he had ever seen. He checked his air gauge. It looked like twenty minutes more at the outside. Only one spear remained for the Hawaiian Sling, and he left his bang stick on the boat, Damn. There was a K-bar strapped to his leg, but he might as well let that go. All it would do was slow him down, when he made his dash for the surface. He ripped the keeper and let his snorkel fall away. Next, his writing pad and camera went, sacrificed for need of a speedy escape.
Fifteen minutes passed and still Norm hadn’t spotted the shark. Norm needed a plan in the worst way. What were the chances of that shark having left the area? What if it hadn’t? The stakes were really high. Norm thought he knew sharks better than anyone on the planet, and still, he hadn’t been able to predict their behavior.
“Well,” he thought, “I don’t have much air left, so I guess it’s now or never.” For the first time in his life, he was more than scared, he was almost petrified. He forced himself to move the flippers, then stopped!
A fat old Bahama Grouper came lumbering along, swam around an outcropping of coral and stared Norm right in the face. He reacted quickly, because a plan was forming, mostly by instinct, that would get him to the surface in one piece. He quickly took his sling and the spear, and sent the spear right through the middle of that grouper. The poor fish immediately began flopping and twisting. It was the dance of death in the underwater world, and a pelagic shark could sense it from miles away.
Next, he took a deep breath of air then put a piece of coral in the mouthpiece valve, so it would blow air bubbles. He held onto the line fastened to the spear, which held the grouper captive, and shot for the surface. About fifteen feet from the surface, he dropped the grouper, hoping it would continue to writhe about all the way to the bottom. He also slipped out of his BC, and let it fall. He reckoned the shark would go for the grouper and then be spooked by the air bubbles, as they often are.
Whatever happened, Norm didn’t know. He took no time to look back. He tore through the surface like an emerging submarine, made for the swim platform, then over the transom and into the boat. There he lay, face up, just breathing.
His heartbeat and breathing were becoming normal. Norm liked an adrenaline high, but this one was a little extreme. As he calmed, he watched the sky with white puffy clouds. They looked like faces, but he didn’t have time to stare as they altered their shapes to satisfy some river of wind at their altitude. The boat was rocking in a random fashion, and waves slapped like a wet towel against the sides without beat or rhythm. He noticed a faint odor of fish emanating from the deck, and with good reason. Wherever the deck failed to hold a gray marine paint, the wood was stained with the blood of many fish.
He knew he had to go back down. He had to kill the big Blue. Otherwise, no one would believe the size of this one. This time, he would take the bang stick. He needed to get right above that shark and jam the stick down onto the shark’s head. It would fire a shotgun shell which would put about a dozen lead balls into the shark’s brain. They actually have a small brain, so it was a difficult target to hit. The real trick was to get into position to fire it, without losing part of one’s anatomy. But, all this was counting on the bang stick working the first time.
Well, this would be his last kill. He had killed between 800 and 1000 sharks in his lifetime. Some of them were unborn babies. According to the species, a shark can have up to 100 babies in its body, waiting to be born. They’re born alive and fully formed.
Norm got his spare equipment ready and prepared to dive. The steel cable from a large winch was payed out, over the top of an iron cross bar used to winch nets of fish into the boat. The iron bar was fifteen feet above the aft deck of the boat.
He took a long look at the blue sky, populated with hundreds of white clouds, strato-cumulus mostly. He thought, there’s a chance it may be my last look at them. Then, he fell over the side of the boat and started his descent. The more he descended, the more the seascape began to look familiar. Soon, he spotted his discarded tank and BC. There was no air escaping from it now. He needed some bait for the shark, so he looked around the reef. A school of amberjack swept by at a good clip, and he speared one of them. He tied the lanyard from the spear to an outcropping of coral. Then he placed himself behind a five foot reef and waited to see what would show. His bleeding had stopped, because he had put some under-water grease on his wounds, topside. It burned like hell, but it was doing its job.
Norm thought he saw the shark. It was still too far away to determine its size, or even to see it clearly. However, it is what we “feel” or “sense” underwater, that prepares some people for battle. Norm understood the menacing nature of the big shark, and he was positive it was coming for him.
Norm was crouched behind some Brain Coral, and the amberjack was on the other side. He knew he would probably have two chances to get the shark; (one) when it came in to investigate, and (two) when it came to ingest the bait.
He wouldn’t have much of an opportunity to use the bang stick. If he reared up too soon, from behind the coral, the shark was sure to react and swim out of range. Too late, and he’d miss the shark’s brain. It would be a tight window of opportunity.
He could see the shark’s movement now. It was that big, bad boy bearing down on the amberjack. Norm waited. He knew the water caused more inertia than air, and he had to spring with just the right amount of lead. He began counting to himself, timing his action. “NOW,” he screamed with a great gush of air from his lungs. He came over the coral just as the shark’s eyes passed where he hid. He got the bang stick down on the top of his head, and the shark didn’t know what hit him.
Now, Norm had a larger problem. The shark was trying to swim after his brain had been destroyed. It was diving, climbing, going in circles and swimming every which way, even upside down. If it kept this up for long, Norm would have a hundred sharks on hand. He had to risk it, so he scrolled out his wire cable off the winch. He got a couple of turns of wire behind the gills, and went topside to winch it in. It took forever, and Norm didn’t know in what condition he’d finally get the shark. Getting it on board was another question. The winch was never made to pull a half ton of fish out of the water. He wasn’t sure if it would do the job, but he had to try.
It seemed like forever, but eventually the shark broke the surface on its tether. Norm was thrilled to see there was no damage to the carcass. He winched it all the way up, until it was hanging tight against the iron cross beam. It made the stern of the boat sit very low in the water. It could very easily swamp and sink the boat. What to do?
Norm thought a while, then decided to continue winching the shark over the iron bar, at which point, it would fall onto the well deck. That would take its weight off the very back of the boat, distributing it more to the center. Norm began to winch, but it started to make a growling sound, and smoke came pouring out of it. He got a bucket of water and threw it on the winch to cool it. He had to continue pouring water on the winch, and it took most of his concentration. All of a sudden the winch started to make a loud, whining noise and the cable became slack. Thinking he had lost the shark, Norm turned to see what happened. He had finally winched the shark over the bar, and it started its free-fall to the well deck. There was only one problem, he was standing on the well deck. He looked up and saw this monster shark coming down on him, mouth open and all teeth bared. Norm never saw the sky again.
If you could visualize that scene, what the Coast Guard saw when they came across his boat. One of the sailors said, “You could see the shark’s teeth imbedded in Norm’s skull, and if you paused a moment, you could almost see a huge smile on that big Blues’ face.”
