25 Feb 1937 - Caldwell would Catch a Zane Grey White Death Shark Page 1 of 3

Referee (Sydney, NSW : 1886 - 1939), Thursday 25 February 1937, page 24

Caldwell would Catch a Zane Grey White

Death Shark

If the Navy would Lend a Cruiser Maddened Shark Charges a Boat

By Norman Caldwell

IN July of last year, Zane Grey made a statement to the Sydney Press that he intended returning to
Australia in 1938 in order to go after the monstrous 'white death' sharks that infested the deepest
waters. His intention was to use as bait, sharks 10 to 15 feet long. When I read that news item, I sat
with my head between my hands, momentarily staggered. To think that I, with years of shark fishing
behind me, had never encountered one of these marine Goliaths, left me feeling like a whipped child.
Reading the news the second time pushed me deeper into my piscatorial shell. How dare these
monstrous sharks haunt Australian waters without revealing their presence to me. It was unthinkable.
The thought that the famous American novelist had given the news to Australia, and the world, turned
me green with envy. I had one consoling thought thought.

ZANE GREY had visited Hayman Island, which is in close proximity to the Great Barrier Reef, for
quite a long stay, and had not seen or captured one of the terrible monsters, though he had produced a
good film. Something had to be done. I would go after one of these whale like creatures in my 18
footer. I read the paragraph the third time. The bait item caused me to tremble. How was I, a mere
man, to use 15-feet long sharks as bait. What a job I would have with a set line, baiting twenty hooks
with twenty fifteen feet long sharks. And what a job would be mine hauling that bait into the boat,
Catching the sharky bait would be my least worry. I could do that easily. I read on. The hand lines
were to be steel cables. Ye gods and little fishes. Things were getting worse... .

And what of his shark hooks? Does Zane Grey intend using sixty pound anchors with their flukes
nicely sharpened and baited on both sides? I be

gan to feel very small. I could not see a few tons of steel cable and half a ton of anchors floating
successfully in my 18-foot open boat. But I will certainly try my hand at this kind of shark fishing,
provided the Defence Department will loan me a cruiser to work my gear from, other wise it is off.
No, after all, I like my own method of shark catching best. There is less weight on my mind. World's
Finest Seriously speaking though, Austra lia has the finest big game Ashing grounds in the world.
Zane Grey has told us that. He is right. Look what is happening in New South Wales waters. Consider
the records that are being broken among the marlin each week. And not only, among the marlin but
immense sharks cap tured by the skill of big game fisher men. To New South Wales this marine
wealth is incalculable, and will , later constitute not only, one of the rich est, but assuredly: one of the
most permanent and reliable assets of the State. The harvest of the sea is very prolific and only waits
to be garnered. For centuries, the peoples of Europe have been economically dependent on the sea for
a portion of their food sup ply, with the result that marine indus tries have become highly developed,
and

represent to-day a huge investment of capital. In the Commonwealth of Australia, similar

opportunities have yet to be taken advantage of. The marine wealth of .Australia is one of the greatest
un developed assets of the British Empire. We have a continent with a coastline extending thousands

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of miles in length where marine life is found everywhere in abundance. Still, being a shark ex pert, I
will conclude this article with a shark story. Hefty Brutes As most of my readers are aware, I have
spent the last few years shark fishing up the Great Barrier way. Though I have never- managed to cap
ture monsters anything like the size suggested by Zane Grey, I have caught some hefty brutes. One
such experi ence happened off Armit Island, one of Boyd Lee's possessions. I had sailed there from
Grassy

Island, for I like changing my fishing possie as much as possible. I knew that big sharks swam in the
deep water off Armit Island reefs. I decided to work the weather side of the island. Nasty rough
ground on that side, but as I was not working a long many-hook set line, I felt fairly secure. The
weather was exceptionally good, though a trifle on the windy side. I had taken to the island several
60lb anchors. I used one of these as a hold ing base for a floating hook. I mean by that a hook with a
float above it. I dumped the anchor in 80 feet of water. It settled in soft mud. Results were quicker
than I anticipated. I hooked a big whaler shark. The large float kept it swimming on the surface of the
water. It made sev eral ineffectual attempts at returning to the depths. I thought that I was in for an
easy capture. I did not know the shark though. It had the 80 feet of line to play with, and was making
good use of the length to swim in large circles. At first it swam slowly. Then it gained speed. Went
racing through the water at such a rate that my neck ached when I tried to follow its movements. Had
to Get Busy 'I did my best to short circuit that run. Got the boat into a position to head the shark off.
Useless though. The whaler reversed and swam the other way. I chased the brute till my

muscles ached with rowing. It seemed a hopeless task. I sat down to think. Here was I, with a sixteen-
feet lung shark playing ducks and drakes with a goud line, sitting like a mug and watching it. The
thought, made me mad, for the wind was freshening from tile south-east. If it blew hard, I would lose
the shark; my anchor and line. I had to get busy. I had about a hundred feet of light manilla rope on
board. This I attached to one of the spare anchors. The top end of the rope I fastened to two large
metal floats. Then I hung three shark hooks at various depths down the anchor line. I gauged tlie
circle in which the hooked shark would travel, and lowered the anchor. Yes, my plan was successful.
The line to which the whaler was attached made connection with one of the hooks. But, I had not
captured the brute. Had only stopped its long roundabout swim. The shark began putting up a fight
with the line. I swung the boat in

closer. The whaler scenting danger start ed another mad peram bulation. In smaller runs though. I got
a grip on the light line. Made the shark line

fast to a cleat, and hauled up the anchor. There are folk who say that sharks provide liltle sport. I only
wish I had a few of those critics on my boat that day. Have you ever seen a shark go mad?. I did. I
saw the line go sud denly slack. Along came the whaler in a wild swirl. I saw the massive head for
one split second before it made contact wilh Ihe hull of the boat. The crash shot me to the floor
boards. The brute had not finished though. Shark Goes Mad It was only warming up. It charged again.
This time, the false keel, which I had placed in position to safeguard the hull from coral fangs, took
the blow. The boat shivered with the impact. The whaler Was in a hellishly savage mood. Several
times the great body swept high above the water and near the boat, too. It was a wonderful sight, but
too full of danger for me to appre ciate then. Its attacks on the boat were as nothing compared with the
mad capers it started. Had that shark leapt into my boat there would have been no story to tell.
Grasping the boat hook. 1 crouched in the stern, waiting. The shark sought blood and freedom. It
charged again, a fanged fury if ever there was one. The long snout hit the keel at the stern. I felt the
boat lift. I almost overblanced as I leaned over.

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HUGE GAPING JAWS THAT CAN DEAL DEATH, but which would be insignificant against the
mighty 'White Death' shark Zane Grey mentions.

I brought the heavy boat hook into action. Its iron-shod head caught the whaler near the dorsal fin.
The barb bit deep into the shagreen-covered body. Away swept the monster. I had drawn first blood.
My blow stopped the attacks on the boat, for which I was thankful. I settled down to get the brute
nearer. It put up its last fight, for the next

ten minutes proved its undoing. Bit by bit it surrendered ground, not through weariness. It was the
loss of blood that did it. My lead-filled waddy was all I needed to give the finishing blow. Though the
Rod Fishers' Society of New South Wales classes the shark as shark, I state right here that the whaler I
caught was a 'game' fish,, if ever there was one.

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