Nov 12 , 2004--Shark!
by Scott and Wendy Bannerot

	Klas Austin prepares to fillet a Nassau grouper. His shark rig is already deployed with a filleted hogfish carcass as bait.

Twenty years ago I was crewing for Dr. Bruce Austin aboard his motorsailor Small Hope. We were on somewhat of an open-ended trip. I'd just completed a Ph.D. program and Bruce had recently retired from his work for a federal fishery management council. His 14-year old son Klas rounded out the permanent crew. We'd made our way from South Carolina to Miami, and then across to Bimini, Bahamas and onward to the Berry Islands. I'd done conch research at Little Whale Cay, and we were anchored nearby visiting Bahamian friends. The previous evening I'd stayed on the island late talking to my old friend Arthur Albury, staying on to sleep over at his house when Bruce and Klas headed back to the boat by dinghy. They hadn't returned by 1030 on a bright sunny spring morning, the tide was flooding in the anchorage, so I opted to take the one-mile swim to the boat from the island - after all, it was no more than 12 feet of clear water over turtle grass.

This tiger shark came in and wolfed down the bait minutes after Klas began cleaning the Nassau grouper.

Back aboard I joined Bruce for a cup of coffee. Klas began to fillet a Nassau grouper on the aft deck, as usual with his shark line deployed: 1/2-inch nylon dock line running out to an orange poly ball, suspended from which was a 6-foot length of 1000-pound multistrand stainless steel cable crimped to a 12/0 Mustad 7731 hook. Bait was usually a filleted fish carcass. The sharks rose to engulf the bait, turned, and hooked themselves on the tension exerted by the flotation of the ball. That same flotation provided cushioned resistance to their subsequent struggles, eventually tiring them enough to be handlined boatside for photographs and release.

We'd finished half our coffees when the transom lurched suddenly to port, nearly spilling the hot brew. Klas yelled out "Shark…big one!" and the fight was on. The poly ball raced off this way and that, throwing up white spray as the shark accelerated frantically, only to come up tight against the cleated-off dock line, pulling the stern to and fro. Over a period of 20 minutes the surges became weaker, until finally the ominous gray-striped form of a robust tiger shark swam slowly by, large dark eye peering up at his tormenters. Mind you, this is late morning in a popular anchorage, with at least five other boats nearby and several people swimming and snorkeling. I eased the shark to the boat. Probably no more than 8 feet long, not big as far as tiger sharks go, but plenty large enough to attack a person, especially considering the aggressive and unselective feeding tendencies of this species. We could not in good conscience release it back in to the anchorage.

	We didn't want to kill the shark, but tigers are dangerous and aggressive, and this one had found its way into a popular anchorage with people swimming and snorkeling. We used every scrap of the firm white meat, and Klas carefully cleaned and preserved the jaws. Here he is still working on the final touches the next day en route to Nassau.

We extracted a .38 Special and put a few rounds in to the top of the shark's head, then eased it up onto the tapered transom of Small Hope. The sleek predator was beautiful. We cut the fish up into many pounds of firm, white steaks, and Klas went to work cutting out the jaws. We distributed the fresh shark meat around the anchorage, and two days later had plenty more to give to sailors in Nassau Harbor. Klas carefully cleaned all of the flesh from the impressive jaws. I think he still has those in his office or at home. I for one was grateful that the shark came along after my ill-advised swim out from the island, and that those jaws had never clapped shut on me.