Ocean Island, Central Pacific, 1964. Standing on a plank stage hanging off the side of a ship with another cadet, I was unenthusiastically cleaning some rust spots whilst the ship waited to load phosphate. We were close to the surface of these clear blue waters, with two-metre reef sharks cruising below.
Bosun Jim, with a face like a robber’s dog, leaning over the side, yelled down to us.
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