One time, at the beginning of lobster season, a storm had just gone through, and the water had a visibility of about a foot, but it was the beginning of the season, and the lure of lobster cooking on the stove was too much to keep us out of the water. I was snorkeling offshore about one hundred yards and estimated I’d be over a reef, so I took a breath, tucked, and dove for the bottom. Half way to the bottom, all I saw in my face mask was the tail of a shark. A big tail, maybe three feet long. I gasped (not easy to do underwater) and headed for the surface. Once on the surface, I yelled “shark” and headed (with hopes of making it) to shore. Obviously, I made it, or I wouldn’t be here writing about it.
What I didn't mention in this paragraph was that there were three of us diving that day. Last week I was talking to my friend Dave in Missouri (my boyhood best friend and still a best friend) and he was one of the other two diving that day. When I yelled "Shark", he looked down in the water and all he saw the the dorsal fin (a big dorsal fin) glide between his legs. Then he headed for shore.
Neither he nor I can remember who the third person, but it didn't surprise me that Dave was the other person diving with me. After all, we were best friends and we lived to talk about it.
So there's a little more to whet your appetite of those that haven't gotten the book yet.