Sharkbait
Cages

With all of my tags in use, and the storm still sending high winds and seas into the outer Cape, we stayed inside the protection of Cape Cod overnight. On the bridge, I used a combination of recent sightings, satellite trackers, and a few of my cellphone trackers to propose a strategy. “There are Great Whites in the area, which we proved yesterday,” I said. “The problem is the lack of deep water. You can see almost all the sightings are in the deep channel on the south edge of Billingagate Shoals, here off Wellfleet.”

Doc looked at the charts, then back to my data. “The deepest water is near the edge here, just over fifty feet. This area where the depth changes quickly to less than twenty feet looks promising. Great Whites love the drop-offs. Back to barrel fishing?”

“I think it’s too murky to use the cages. We’ll have to tend the barrels when they blow up into the shallows, but we can use a zodiac for that and stay in deeper waters,” I said. “The sharks will head for deep water when hooked, I’m sure of it.”

“It’s worth a try. The Great Whites found here will be feeding on fish and smaller sharks, maybe harbor seals. I don’t expect to find big ones, but we need to tag the younger ones too. They are the ones just coming into maturity,” Doc said.

“I’ll anchor here for the night,” the Captain said. “We’ll have a short transit to the fishing grounds in the morning.”

I walked back down to the galley, spreading the word about tomorrow’s plan to the excited crew. Some had been hesitant to use my “cheap” tags but now understood that quantity had a quality all its own. A few people were playing with the tagging data from the University of Miami, which combined data from the usual tags with the new ones I’d gotten into play. There was far more data than they were used to, and a wider variety of species and broader expanse of sizes than before. “This is fantastic,” Chip said as he explored Bull Shark sightings along the East Coast. The variety could tolerate brackish and even freshwater, often traveling hundreds of miles inland along rivers. “My sister would freak if she knew twelve-foot sharks are swimming the river she rows crew on,” he said. I looked at the map; sure enough, data from a bull shark well up the Merrimack River near Lowell, Massachusetts. “She’s at UMass Lowell,” he explained.

“Yeah, probably best not to say anything,” I said. I saw Dale return with one of the camera guys before he asked Chip if he was ready. “What’s going on?”

“Interviews and background,” Chip said.

“Nothing to worry about,” Dale confirmed. “Reactions to the day’s activities, questions, commentary to voice over video taken today.” I must have looked a little surprised. “They aren’t doing it with you?”

“Maybe that’s what they are using the bridge time for,” I said. Or maybe they are talking ABOUT me. With all the drama I’d caused, perhaps they were setting this up to be more reality show and less a serious documentary. I’d have to ask Erik about it tomorrow because I was tired from all the swimming. I went back to my cabin, talked to Amy and my parents for a few minutes on the phone, then went to bed.

The next day was moderately successful; we tagged two Great Whites and one Shortfin Mako before we had to shut down due to high winds. We lost a day as the storm blew through, and Erik did interview me for a few hours during that time. The next day we were back off the eastern edge of Cape Cod, tagging nine new Great Whites over the next three days. The last days of the expedition would be with cameras only, trying to catch footage of attacks on the grey seal colonies along the rocky shores.

We started setting up the cages in the early morning as we transited around the northern edge of the cape to the seaward side. Chip and Theresa were helping me learn about the design as they set them up. “Previous cage designs were limited because they hang down from the boat, and the divers are dependent on the tanks on their back,” Chip said. “We designed these to be autonomous. These aluminum-clad foam floats along the top provide plenty of positive buoyancy to keep the cage up top. Instead of hanging from the boat, we anchor with a rope from the bottom.”

“These eighty-pound concrete blocks are plenty, and you can have over two hundred feet of rope. We place the anchors in the target area, feed the rope into the wheel here, and you have depth control anywhere in the water column without needing assistance.” Theresa demonstrated the mechanism for me. It was as simple as a boat winch. Release the brake, then use the crank to move up or down. “When you are ready to surface, you can just release the brake and let your buoyancy take you up. In an emergency, cut the rope here with your knife and float up.”

“This is the best thing,” Chip said as he showed the four extra-large air tanks along opposite sides near the bottom. “Eight times as much air as from carrying your own on your back, and your regulator hose connects into it. Without the tanks, you have more room in the cage to move around. You can stay down for about three hours at a time. We press up the tanks while the dive team rests, then you go back down again. One cameraman and one safety diver per cage.” We’d use all four, as we only had four cameramen.

“What if something happens to your regulator or hose,” I asked.

“Buddy breath to the surface, or use this device that you’ll be carrying on your weight belt,” he said as he showed me the emergency air regulator. It was a small tank with an integral regulator and mouthpiece. “Twist the mouthpiece ninety degrees to start the air, and it’s good for three minutes.”

We finished assembling our cage just after the other three finished. We didn’t arrive on station until almost nine in the morning, but with safety briefs done, we were ready to go. We set one cage in shallower water, about twenty feet, while the others we anchored over the drop-offs closer to where we had caught the sharks earlier. The seal colonies were loud and avoided the ship as we set up.

We had four cameramen and seven divers, meaning we would be rotating the safety divers. When the deepwater cameramen were on their rest cycles, we would be sending a pair of researches down with hand cameras. I was up first, in the shallow-water cage set in place only thirty yards off the crowded beach. The anchor went over the side before the cage was put in the water. I swam to the cage in my skin-diving gear, going in the top hatch and going on air before connecting the floating nylon rope to the wheel and cranking it tight. Once I had it stabilized, Frank swam over and handed in his camera gear before pulling himself in. He latched the top closed and gave the thumbs up, and the Ocean Explorer moved to the next location.

We did one last check of our gear before I started cranking the cage down to the bottom. I stopped when we were suspended just a few feet above the seafloor and set the brake. Frank got his camera going, taking a full rotation around as we got used to moving together. We had to make sure the air hoses didn’t get tangled, but other than that? This dive was fun, and it was going to last for hours.

The seals quickly went back to normal as the boat left, and a few curious ones came up to the cage before zooming off. Since this was Erik running the show, each cage had multiple fixed cameras showing inside and outside, a small camera attached to the top of my mask, plus the big underwater camera Frank had. As the safety diver, my job was to make sure nothing snuck up on Frank while he was focusing on his camera work. The aluminum cage had openings big enough for a shark’s nose to get in, and we’d all watched Jaws a few too many times in our lives.

For an hour, we saw nothing but seals. Their sudden absence was a tipoff that a predator was around, and it didn’t take long to find it. A thirteen-foot Great White with a tag was swimming near the bottom towards us. The shark circled the cage, even taking the bars in her teeth before deciding we weren’t dinner and moved on. It disappeared into the deeper waters.

The panicked swimming of a big seal caught my eye, and I got Frank’s attention on it just as the Great White came rushing up from the deep. He wasn’t going after that one, but at a smaller seal at the surface. The big shark rose like a rocket from the deep, slamming into its victim as it breached the surface. Frank kept the camera on the scene as the shark swallowed half of the seal, the rear half spiraling down as the water was colored red. The big shark circled for the rest, tearing it apart to swallow it in big chunks as the remoras picked off the small pieces. They quickly swam back and attached themselves to the shark as it headed for deep water.

Ho. Lee. Shit.

Frank was still filming, and he brought two fingers to his mask and then pointed them away, the signal to keep my eyes peeled. With blood in the water, more sharks might show up, and they did. A smaller male Great White swam through the blood looking for the source but moved on. A half-dozen smaller sharks, including a shortfin mako, made an appearance as well. I checked my dive computer and the tank pressures, calculating we had less than thirty minutes of air left. By our safety rules, it was time to come up.

I tapped Frank on the arm, pointed at the dive time, then signaled for the surface. He nodded, still filming, as I released the brake. The cage rose slowly to the surface, finally bobbing in the waves. I set the brake so it wouldn’t drift off, and we waited on air for the Ocean Explorer to return.

“Tell me you got that,” I said as soon as I was up on deck.

“Money shot,” Frank said with a big grin. He pulled his fins off, then stood and picked me up, spinning me around. “THAT WAS FANTASTIC,” he said. “Nice job spotting it, or I might have missed it.”

We told the story of the hit as Erik downloaded the file to his laptop; the removable memory card would be locked up in the safe when he finished. Most of the crew watched as he played the segment, whooping in glee at what we’d caught. “I think we need to move another cage closer to shore,” he said.

“We should get the first shift out and see what they have first,” I said. “Who knows? They might have better shots.”

“This is tough to beat. I dream of footage like this,” Erik said.

We spent all but one of the remaining days doing shark dives, but no footage came close to what we had gained that first dive. We did some chumming, bringing big sharks in close to the cage, but that wasn’t the same.

All too soon, we were heading back to Woods Hole. We left about four in the afternoon, leaving us time for a celebration dinner. Chef Boyar did it up, with surf and turf, twice-baked potatoes, and mixed vegetables for dinner. I was enjoying the lobster tail when the big television screens fired up. “We have a LOT of work to do in the editing room, but we put together some of our favorite footage for this sneak preview,” Erik said. “Enjoy.”

It was scene after scene of our success, roughly in chronological order. It showed us leaving port, then first Great White shark we tagged. There were shorter takes of other sharks, but Eric showed the entire process of capturing thru releasing the second-biggest Great White ever tagged. I slumped in my seat as Brian insulted me, only to be hugged and congratulated as I saw myself take him down. I hadn’t seen what happened when I left until now. I saw Sally running after me, while Chip ran to get Doctor Goodwin. Nobody went to Brian’s aide as he woke up and pushed himself until he was sitting up. “What happened,” he asked.

“You got your ass kicked,” Dale said. “You’re lucky she did it already, so we don’t have to.” Doctor Goodwin took him back to the infirmary, while Theresa and Dale left to talk to the Captain.

“Thank you,” I told my friends as the scene ended.

“No problem, Sharkbait,” Theresa said as she handed me my dessert. The crew had started to call me that after the Shark Barbie incident. They found my original nickname to be more fitting, given my success at attracting sharks. I took a bite of the Turtle cheesecake. Fluffier than at Wiederholts, but still good. Yum.

There were great shots of us tagging sharks, and some fascinating “shark-cam” footage. The highlight of the night was the beginning-to-end attack run by the Great White on the grey seal that Frank had captured in our first dive. When the preview ended, there was a loud cheer that I enthusiastically joined.

Erik sat with me after; he had months of editing to do with the thousands of hours of footage they had taken. He knew they had more material than a single one-hour Shark Week show could hold. He was going to push for two hours, or better, a series of one-hour episodes throughout the week. He would call me when he was ready for me to do more interviews and voice-over work as he finished the edits. “You did a great job out here, Vicki. The camera loves you, and the audience will relate to you. I’m so happy Bert opted out, and we hired you in his place.” Bert was the original host who backed out weeks before.

“This was a life-changing adventure for me. If you need me for the next one, give me a call.” It was true; I’d chased my dream these past two weeks, and found out I could hold my own. I’d even earned the respect of my peers along the way.

After dinner, I had to pack my bags and get ready to leave. I’d made a lot of friends, and I had their numbers stored in my phone now. It was almost sundown when the Ocean Explorer approached its pier.

I expected a driver to be waiting for me. Instead, Luna Adrienne was there with three big warriors from the Baxter Pack.

It couldn’t be good news.

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