60 DAHLAK 



being visible at thirty feet. I swam down along the wall of the 

 reef There, between the giant blocks on the sand that 

 sloped into the depths, a blackish form moved and turned. 

 Cautiously I approached, eyeing to right and left for sharks, 

 sliding over the sandy bottom, leaving the barrier at my 

 back. Could it be? Yes, it was a grouper, one of eighty 

 pounds at least. I withdrew silently, and rose gently without 

 swimming. I called Cecco and we went down together in 

 case one or other should need help. Thirty feet down. There 

 she was. We approached slowly, and swam round her with 

 guns at the ready. The great grouper gave a start, swivelled 

 round and stared at us, fanning her chest with her agitated 

 fins. But before we could gain shooting range she disappeared 

 into the gloom. This was our first encounter with a large 

 grouper in the Red Sea. 



Then followed what I called my *shark-kicking' experience. 

 It began with the agitations of a handsome twelve-pound 

 fish (a kind of reddish-brown bream) that I had shot in the 

 bowels at the base of the reef on a depth of thirty feet. 

 There was just time to count three between the shot and the 

 appearance of a shark (the usual black-fin) coming upon 

 the same fish with mouth wide open. It was a matter of a 

 second. I was not put out, in fact I remember feeling a gust 

 of bellicosity towards it, perhaps because I knew it was 

 exclusively interested in the fish and not in me, perhaps 

 because in exceptional conditions one's nervous reaction is 

 frequently quite contrary to that which would be expected 

 in more normal circumstances. 



As it attacked, I snatched my prey away, pulling the cord 

 violently. The shark missed its mark and circled ten yards 

 further out. I was dumbfounded that I had been quicker 

 than he had, but I realized that this was not the usual speed 

 of an attacking shark. It evidently wanted to eat, but was 



