Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
the floating safety line as the sharks would be circling around us and became very bold after
a while. I was even rammed slightly that afternoon. I decided to call it quits and came out
onto the beach, sitting in the hot sunlight. Army and Palmyra were sitting patiently watch-
ing the events. I suppose the shark action and our line of tasty fish must have triggered a
reaction for suddenly the two of them took off and swam out into the water. They swam
in slow circles and appeared to hone in a one black tipped reef shark about five or six feet
in length. As they circled it, they cleverly worked it closer and closer towards the beach.
Their circles became smaller and smaller. They were yipping excitedly now, and there was
a fair bit of rough water being kicked up. As though from a secret signal, the dogs bit into
the shark's throat so suddenly it had no time to escape. They then dragged their hapless
victim up the beach and away from the water. They ripped its throat open, and the shark
died quickly and messily in a pool of blood. It was shocking to see. Instead of eating their
catch, they did a typical canine thing: they buried the shark in about two feet of beach sand
and covered it up again to be dug up at a later stage.
We were quite amazed at this demonstration, and I wish I had had a video or movie camera.
I had a little underwater camera that took reasonable photos, and I was able to now take
a few of this incident. We were ashore a few days later sitting at the Palmyra Yacht Club,
when the owners of Southern Star motored ashore. Linda introduced herself and her hus-
band to us. She was a pleasant brunette, shortish, with a ready smile and laugh. I cannot
say the same for her partner. He was cruel looking from the start. There was something sin-
ister or malevolent about Steve. He had an air of superior indifference, an unsmiling face,
and a hook nose with straight, humorless lips, which were set in a line of impatient suffer-
ance. He nodded shortly to Gavin and I and said with mustered poorly disguised politeness,
“Hey, heard you guys had to be towed up the channel by the boys in the love boat?”
“Yes, could happen to anyone I believe,” I retorted, remembering with embarrassment of
the night aboard Neptune's Chariot. I was wondering if anyone had heard.
Apparently, Steve had just retired from a successful career with the United States Navy
as an officer on one of the atomic submarines. I have heard of how thirty years under the
ocean can warp a man's mind.
“We are trying to get a work crew together to clear some of the airstrip,” he said curtly,
“The Japanese Navy is sending a helicopter for Jesus' daughter to airlift her to Hawaii. Can
we count you in?” he said looking at us as though we were troops of his.
“By all means, we'd like to help Jesus. When do you need us?” I asked.
“Today if possible, I have radioed the boys on the Chariot, and they are sending two guys,”
he sneered, raising his eyes.
