In 1974 in the Bahamas, I was diving for fish for supper. I was diving with another guy but he went a reef on the other side of the dinghy. The pressure was on us as we have guests for supper. I had many spots for spearing fish. one was a sunken landing craft that depended on the tide. it looked good so I anchored the dingy nearby and dove in. at this tide the wreck was partly out of the water. I dove. there was a large hole in the hull and peeking out was a beautiful gray snapper that would have fed half of us. I dove he retreated just enough in the hole that I couldn't get a shot. I did this a few times and in frustration, I went into the hole after him (this is a no-no in free diving) he retreated further and i ran out of air. I backed out in hurry and cracked my head on the sharp metal hull. I was in trouble fighting off passing out and bleeding badly. I clawed my way to the surface and swam to the bit sticking out of the water and crawled on top panting profusely. I screamed Pain everywhere it was all stinging fire coral. I slid back in the water adjusted my mask and made for the dingy. A 6 ft barracuda met me halfway. SHIT! blood in the water he circled when he turned to me I followed him with my 3 bands arbalete speargun. I was afraid to shoot my eyes were blurred with blood and if I wounded him I didn't want him on a ten-foot line. He was determined and I was tiring fast. Fuck him! I tore off my mask so I couldn't see him and swam for the boat. My friend was soon aboard he had run into a mess of langouste (lobster) so supper was saved.
A few weeks later I was swimming across the harbour near the lighthouse. I ran into the biggest cuda i ever saw. he was at least 7 ft long and 2 feet wide. I kept my eye on him as swam by.
Cyril Green
I had one of those weeks lots of diving and hunting fish I had a couple of face to face with sharks and another couple with big barracuda.
So as we were sailing back to anchorage we passed under the Paradise Island Bridge when a girl I know from Toronto yelled at me. She said she was at Swami Retreat on the island and I said I would come over.
So when we anchored I walked over and searched for her but couldn't find her and walked back to Town in the early evening. On the Nassau side of the bridge was a floating snack shop called Father Allan's. I needed substance so I got in line to order a hamburger and a beer. From out of nowhere this big Bahamian guy pushes me out of the way. So I come back and push him right back and get my place in line. I heard someone say mon that is Cyril Green he is the meanest mon on de island.' So Cyril comes back and glares at me and I glare back. "So you are not afraid of me mon," he says. "Not really," I say. (After my encounters with sharks and barracudas getting a punch in the mouth did not seem too frightening and I was in really good shape.)
He smiles and buys me a beer and we got hamburgers and chatted and after that, he took me to see his Bahamian sailboat and meet his father and sit around and drink rum and talk fishing and sailing for a couple of hours.
We moved from the sandpile by the Paradise island Bridge to anchoring just off the British Colonial Hotel. We noticed that on Wednesdays they had free rum punch on the beach for the new crop of tourists and on Sundays, they would have free bloody mary punch for the tourists leaving. So we just get in line with the rest of them. We always got a second look in the line of white bodies on Wednesday and pink bodies on Sunday to our dark tans and sun-bleached hair.
We were not far from the market where they sold fresh fruit sailed in from Eleuthera and the fishing boats tied up along the quay with fresh fish and conch. The conch was kept fresh by poking a hole in the shell and stringing them all on a wire. They kept them in the water and would pull up the wire as they sold them.
We used to ask the fishermen where they got their conch. they would just smile and tell us."Oh, mon you got to go for miles and miles to get any conch and that was a much as we could get out of them.
So one day Hodge dives in off our boat and surfaces holding a conch. he put it aboard and told me to get my mask and fins there were more. All in all, we got over 50 conches which we just piled up under the boat. They all had a hole punched in them. They must have escaped from a fisherman at the market. So we just ranched them. Conch are slow movers, so we just dove down every morning and retrieved them and piled them up again. So we had fresh conch whenever we wanted some. we would invite friends over for conch fritters which I cooked. They would always ask us"Where do get your conch." We would smile and say "OH you got to go for miles and miles.
No comments:
Post a Comment