by Flash Rex
Meanwhile, the blue was interested in the bloody bag but was suspicious of the net. We watched as the blue approached and then turned away at the last moment time after time. Fifteen minutes passed before Burns expressed his first doubts to me. "The net is too conspicuous. There must be a better way of doing this."
"I don't think there is. The few great whites that have been captured alive usually took quite a beating in the process. I don't want to use a bigger net because I don't want our prize fish to be hopelessly tangled. The sharks we're after are so rare out here we can't risk accidentally killing one."
"Are there any other alternatives?" Burns asked.
"The only other option I can see is rod and reel but that would be way too unpredictable. There'd be no guarantee that we could get it on the boat. In fact, the shark may not even survive long enough for us to bring it near the boat. For one thing the shark on our hook would be at a serious disadvantage with other sharks in the area. It wouldn't do us any good to reel a shark in only to have it torn to pieces by another shark."
"I see," Burns said.
"A rod and reel is out of the question. We might as well try to catch it with a shotgun. We'd get the same result - a dead shark."
"Well we don't want that. It's just that I don't think a shark will be dumb enough to just swim right into our net. That's all I'm saying."
I smiled at Burns. "Look, Mr. Burns, we've got to be patient. This is basically the same as any other fishing. You throw the bait in the water and you wait. You may wait no time or a long time. A lot of it is luck, but a lot of it is also perseverance. We have to let the shark feel comfortable. Comfortable enough to go after the bait without any fear of something bad happening to it. Assuming sharks actually experience fear."
"I know what you're saying." I was glad I could reassure Mr. Burns but I was having my own doubts. As far as I knew, great whites were among the most cautious large predators on earth. They rarely attacked without first investigating the situation. Even when they do attack, they don't always follow through. That lack of a killer instinct has allowed many people to survive shark attacks, even great white attacks. It seems hard to believe that a great white doesn't have a killer instinct, but so many people have been horribly bitten and lived to tell about it because the shark stopped the attack. Sure the shark may realize that it attacked the wrong thing (like a surfer instead of a seal) but a meal's a meal. Burns interrupted my thoughts. "Hey, here we go!"
The blue was attacking the bag. It thrashed its head back and fourth wildly. Blood and chunks of fish escaped through a hole the shark tore in the bag. Frank pulled the rope the bag was attached to. The blue moved right into the center of the net with a good foot or so to spare both in front and back of the animal. "Go!" I yelled to the crane operator.
The net rose faster than I thought it would but I can't describe it as fast. Perhaps the speed was just right because the blue didn't seem to notice it. The net rose and lifted the still thrashing shark out of the water. The blue was still tearing at the bag. Blood and oil dripped into the water. Fish chunks fell and splashed into the water but occasionally a seagull would swoop in and catch one out of the air. "OK! Now swing it back around!"
I gestured to the crane operator like I was directing an airplane. "Bring it back slowly." The net swung back over the deck. It stopped directly over the transport box. It's actually going to work, I thought.
The blue released the remnants of the bag, arched its back and flipped completely out of the net landing tail first on its back on the deck of the boat. I saw the whole thing happen as if it were in slow motion. My first instinct was to try and catch the shark. I was able to stop myself before I got smashed by a couple of hundred pounds of shark. I was not able to prevent looking like an uncoordinated dork as I turned my ankle though. Sharp pain shot up my leg as the shark rolled over onto its stomach and continued thrashing around on the deck. I was forced to stumble out of its way as it turned its head and nearly bit my foot.
The boat's crewmen ran over as I sat where I fell. A couple of them pinned the shark down by each putting one foot on its back. My ankle began to throb but I realized I didn't do any permanent damage. I looked up and saw a crewman hold a pistol to the shark's head and pull the trigger. The first real live gunshot I ever heard in my life stunned me again and had my ears ringing. Blood squirted out of the hole in the still twitching shark's head and pooled on the deck. The blood contained chunks of disgusting organic matter that had me lying on my side dry heaving. Between my throbbing ankle, my ringing ears and my growing nausea I didn't catch any of the conversation going on a few feet away from me. When I finally looked up, I saw the crewmen under Grimshaw's direction pick up the dead blue and try to muscle it over the railing. We needed to tie a rope around the dead shark's tail so we could use it as bait. "No!" I yelled. One of the crewmen tried to stop the shark's momentum over the side but he was the only one and there was no way he could've held the shark by himself. I forgot about my physical ailments and scrambled to the railing.
I looked down and saw the blue spiraling deeper and deeper into the water. It reminded me of a World War I biplane crash landing after a dogfight. We wouldn't be able to see the blue crash land though. Each moment it became less and less visible as it spiraled down. Without looking up from the dead blue I yelled, "Who told you to throw it overboard?"
From behind me I heard Grimshaw's voice. "I did." I somehow restrained myself from physically kicking the crap out of my colleague. My anger was lost in the fascination of watching the sinking shark. The shark was almost gone when it seemed to change direction. It moved to my left. It was no longer visible but it definitely moved. It must have hit bottom or something, I thought.
"Did you see that?" I asked nobody in particular.
"Yeah, that was the fastest dead shark I've ever seen," somebody said. The others laughed.
I looked at Frank who was still wearing his headphones to communicate with Pearson. "Ask Pearson how deep it is here." Frank relayed the question to the captain.
"About two hundred feet give or take," Frank said.
"Is there anything beneath us? An old wreck or a reef or anything?" I asked.
"No," Frank said. "The captain asks why, sir."
I ignored Pearson's question. "What's the visibility in the water here? Could I see something go all the way to the bottom here?"
Frank didn't bother relaying that. "No way," he said. Some of the other crewmen started peering into the water. "What'd you see?" Frank asked.
"I don't know for sure. But I do know that the dead blue hit something on the way down. Or something hit it."
"What do you think it was? What could it be?" Frank asked.
Burns stepped in to answer. "It was our shark." Burns looked at me. "That's what you think isn't it?"
I didn't answer Burns directly. "Start chumming again. I want so many fish chunks in the water that I could walk home without rolling my pant legs up." The shark we wanted was here somewhere.
Burns called everyone around him at the end of the boat. "I have a little extra incentive for everyone!" He held up a thousand dollar bill. I don't know whose picture is on it and I doubt anybody on the boat but Burns did either. "I'm going to leave it right here for the man who first spots that black devil!" Burns taped the bill to the side of the crane and walked back to the lounge.
A half hour went by and nothing happened. Everyone including myself started to relax again. The lookouts were no longer standing as tall as they had been. I could see two of them leaning on the railing. They were still watching the water but there was no more expectation that something was going to happen. I guess everyone had a rush of adrenaline or something when we caught the blue (and blew its brains out all over the deck). Then we all thought the other shark was here but we saw no sign of it. Even I was beginning to think I just imagined the dead blue changing direction. For all I knew, the blue just turned over from its white stomach to its dark back without being hit by anything. Maybe
the water just distorted the image I saw.
"Over here!" Someone yelled from behind me. Even with the thousand-dollar bounty, we hadn't had any false alarms yet. I half-expected this to be the first one. I turned and looked where the crewman was pointing. I saw a dirty gray seagull flapping its wings just above the water. When I squinted I realized that the seagull's right leg was being pulled under water. Other seagulls hovered over the dirty gray one, but they were keeping their distance.
"What's going on?" I heard Burns ask from behind me. The seagull got its leg free and started to rise when the black head of a shark burst through the surface. In an instant, I saw the teeth, brilliant white against the shark's black skin, surround the bird and sink back into the water. The other gulls continued hovering but they got no meal from their deceased friend. The surface was calm as if nothing happened. I looked at Burns for confirmation.
"Did you see that?" I asked.
"I sure did. I assume that's what we're looking for?"
"That's our boy." I replied. "Frank! Get some bait in the water! Grimshaw!" I glanced at Burns. "Start chumming'. And don't be stingy!"
"Aye, aye, sir." Grimshaw stood right in front of me and gave a mock salute. Burns laughed. Grimshaw and I kept straight faces until Grimshaw turned towards the buckets. That's when I started laughing. It was kind of funny but Burns and I were over laughing. In reality, we were in a giddy mood. During the half hour between the dead blue and the dead bird, Burns and I were deflated. We thought our chance was gone but it dramatically reappeared thanks to a seagull that wasn't paying attention. I always hated those disgusting seagulls anyway.
I turned towards the crane. I was suddenly afraid that the blue damaged the net. I didn't think to have a spare handy and, based on a half day's experience, I doubt any of these clowns did either. "How's the net look?" I asked the crane operator.
"Like new," he said.
"Great. Try not to drop the next one will ya'!" I gave the kid a grin.
"I'll try not to," he said with an embarrassed smile. I hope he realized I was only kidding. It wasn't his fault the blue got out of the net. The damn thing jumped like a mako. The experience with the blue taught me one thing though. If our shark falls out of the net and lands on the deck, we might as well put a gun to its head because it will be dead. I wouldn't dare try to lift a live great white. I wouldn't have tried to lift the blue shark earlier. Trying to lift a shark while it's thrashing around with a mouthful of razor sharp teeth is something that you do on pay-per-view. Besides the crew had enough trouble trying to lift a dead blue. A live great white, as big or bigger than the seven-foot blue, could weigh hundreds of pounds more than the blue. We'd be better off letting the shark fall back into the water and trying again.
"Look," I said to the crane operator, "if the shark looks like it's going to make a jump or if it looks like it's going to fall, make sure the net's over the water. Okay?"
"Yeah, but then we'll lose it."
"If it falls in the water, at least we can try again. If it falls on the deck, all we can do is kill it. I want that monster alive." I was gritting my teeth. I just thought about that little kid the monster attacked. All of a sudden I was pissed that a human was attacked and probably killed by some lesser creature. I wasn't mad at the shark really. Unlike a human, the shark didn't know any better. I was mad at something else. Like what a waste it was. Or why did God let this happen? I didn't even know the kid. I just thought of what I'd feel if I did know him. Rage directed at nothing. Rage directed at everything.
"Lower the net slowly. We don't want to spook him," I said to the crane operator. We sure don't want to spook that black devil with those hundreds of razor sharp teeth by dropping a net in the water too quickly.
As the net entered the water it looked pretty small to me. I still didn't have a clue as to how big the black shark was. The tape of the kid being attacked really didn't allow for any educated guesses and the bird attack happened too fast to do anything but watch. I could be sure that this was no twenty-foot monster. Burns would probably be disappointed but we were lucky. We couldn't even consider catching twenty footer. I was hoping it would be in the ten-foot range and so far I'd seen nothing to dash those hopes.
Frank tossed another bloody, fish filled bag into the water right above the net. "You can stop chumming now," I said to Grimshaw. "We know he's still around and we don't want to distract him from the bait in the net."
"You mean I can actually rest now, master?" Grimshaw threw down the scooper he was using and started to rub his right shoulder.
"Do whatever you want. Just stay out of the way." I could feel Grimshaw staring at me but I didn't have time to deal with him so I ignored him. He didn't go away. I nearly turned to look at him when we heard a door slam. I turned and saw Burns run out of the lounge to the railing and nearly fall overboard as he launched what looked like a camera about forty yards out into the water.
"Good riddance!" Burns screamed. He seemed to regain control of himself for a moment when he realized everyone on deck stopped what they were doing to look at him. He calmly walked back inside the lounge. As he was closing the door behind him, he stopped and called for Grimshaw. "Mr. Grimshaw will you join me please." It wasn't a request and Grimshaw scampered in. When Grimshaw closed the door, the rest of us looked around at each other.
Frank whispered to me, "It looks like the boss is having some problem with his camera."
"Yeah but the guy's got a cannon for an arm," I whispered back.
"I thought he was going to fall in," Frank said. Before I could respond, the rope jerked in Frank's gloved hands. We both turned to look at the net.
"It's a good thing he didn't," I said. The shark was right there. I could tell it was just short of ten feet long because it was right above the net. The jaws opened and chomped down on the bag. I was mesmerized. The entire length was pure black. It looked like a silhouette of a great white. I couldn't even pick out the black eye against the rest of the skin. The teeth sparkled white. It looked very much like a monster.
The burlap bag gave way under the pressure exerted by those jaws and teeth. Frank turned to look at me before he yelled to the crane operator, "Now!" That snapped me out of it but I had nothing else to do except watch the net rise under the shark. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grimshaw come up from my left.
"Tell Burns it's here," I said without facing Grimshaw.
Grimshaw didn't respond while he got his first good look at the shark. We both watched the net rise for a few moments. It's too slow, I thought. The shark finished swallowing the bait but it was still interested in the remnants of the bag that was still on the rope. The shark's interest won't last long. "Burns is pissed we don't have a camcorder or camera to take pictures of our trip,” Grimshaw said.
"So what? I'll paint him a picture," I responded.
"He wants pictures so we can put together some souvenirs of the trip."
"He wants souvenirs? How about the most unique creature ever captured? Is that enough of a souvenir for him?"
"Not for him you moron. He wants to sell picture books or even a TV special. Things like that."
"He's got to be kidding. That greedy bastard! He'll probably win the Nobel Prize for best fish story and he's worried about how much money he's going to make. I already told him that if we catch this monster he's going to have enough money to open up bad aquariums all over the country. You go tell him that. I don't have time right now." Grimshaw just stood there. I'm sure he didn't want to go back into the lounge without a camera. "Tell Burns he probably shouldn't have thrown the only camera we had overboard." I knew I should watch what I say, but I was close to delivering what Zaller had said was impossible just two days ago. I was right and everybody was going to hear about it. What was Burns going to do, fire the golden boy?
Once again, though, I was wrong about the crane not being fast enough to catch a shark. This shark was positioned perfectly in the net as it cleared the water. The shark thrashed around a bit but
I was actually glad to see it. The blue didn't struggle at all before it flipped out of the net. Hopefully this one wouldn't conserve its energy in order to make one leap to freedom.
I started to direct the crane operator to swing the shark over to the transport box. The net swung gently due to the shark's struggling but there didn't appear to be any imminent danger of the shark falling out. The net moved over the deck. I reached into the water in the box. Oh, oh. I dropped to my knees to try to read the thermometer on the inside of the box. Eighty-five degrees! "Stop the crane! Whoa! Stop the crane! Move it back over the water!" Everyone stared at me including the crane operator. "Do it!" I yelled. The net started to swing back over water.
"What the hell are you doing? We got him!" Grimshaw yelled.
"Get some ice!" I yelled to Grimshaw. "Everybody get as much ice as you can carry! Now!" The crewmen ran to get the ice but Grimshaw just stood there.
"What the hell do we need ice for?" Grimshaw asked. Burns must have seen or heard the crew running by the lounge and he came running out towards Grimshaw and I.
"The water in the box is eighty-five degrees! It's too hot for the shark. It's been sitting out in the sun for hours. We have to cool the water before we put the shark in."
"What are you taking about?" Burns said. "Great Whites have been caught off Florida, Cuba and even Hawaii. They can survive in eighty-five degree water. You! On the crane! Bring the shark in!"
"Look Burns," I said, "that shark could die if you put it in there. You're right great whites can survive in warmer water but those sharks swim to those places through gradually warming water. Think about it! You move that shark from sixty-five degree water to eighty-five degree water and the shock alone could kill it!" The net swung closer and closer to the transport box. "Tell him to stop! You've got to trust me."
"Look! It's starting to slip out a little." Grimshaw was pointing at the shark. The crane operator saw the shark sliding. The entire shark started out with both nose and tail inside the net. The shark had now wiggled to the point where its mouth, and thus its entire head, was hanging over the side of the net. The holes in the net were too small for any of the fins to catch and hold the shark in place. The shark's pectoral fins were spread out like wings on the surface of the net.