Captain Clam* and I were continually
playing stupid pranks on each other. Usually dangerous pranks. It's sort of surprising that both of us are still around.
One time we were on a sailing boat anchored
somewhere close to
As soon as the first bullet went zipping
through the water in front of me, I headed for the bottom. I then made my way back to
the other side of the boat without surfacing.
Had Clam been aiming to hit me I would have
been fairly confident of my safety because his eyesight was not the best. The fact that he’d been
trying to go close but miss me was terrifying.
“Almost got you,” he brayed gleefully as
I climbed the boarding ladder.
I had my revenge a couple of weeks later
though when the two of us were snorkelling for lobster at Porpoise Rocks off the north
end of Bimini.
I was at the base of one of the rocks—a
depth of maybe twelve feet—when I looked into what I’d first thought to be a
small cave. But in fact it was the entrance to a tunnel going all the way
through to the other side of the rock--a distance of perhaps fifty yards.
This was too tempting to resist. I took a
good lungful of air and swam into it. Once inside, I was committed—it was too
narrow for me to turn around.
Half way through, the tunnel opened up into a small
chamber about five feet around and four high.
To my horror, residing in a crevice on one
side, was the biggest moray eel I’d ever seen. The thing had a head the size of
a football.
Well, like most creatures, morays don’t
like intruders coming into their territory. Get too close and it kind of
snaps and snarls like an angry dog. It makes no noise—just opens and
closes its mouth baring wicked-looking fangs.
I’ve never been bitten by a moray, but I’ve
been told that if one does get its teeth into you, the only way to get free of
it is to cut its head off. Otherwise, it will wrap its tail around a rock and
drown you.
I put myself as far from those horrible fangs
as I could and ever so gently finned by. Once past, I shot through the
remaining part of the tunnel and out the other side.
I caught up with Clam and told him of this
fabulous tunnel. He couldn’t resist being foolish either.
As he headed for the entrance, I thrashed
around to the other side to greet him as he came out.
Well, his exit was quite spectacular. He
shot out of the water like a breaching dolphin. “You bastard,” he yelled on
seeing my grinning face.
I’ve heard him tell this tale on a number
of occasions. In his version, I prod the eel with my pole spear in order to
stir it up for when he makes his appearance. Not true. I went by it as meekly
as a little lamb.
*See blog dated 29-10-12
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