The water was opaque, its surface calm and tinted silver by a typically silver Otways sky. Four of us had started swimming together, but two had swum ahead to the pier. Joni and I had turned back to the beach from the pumping station and had been swimming for 10 minutes and just passed the red-roofed house, the point at which, one friend says, you know you’ll make it back to land. We were out wide in the water because a rip was running along the rocks.

I was ahead and Joni about 10 metres behind when a big shark swam fast beneath me going from my head to my toes, towards Joni. The word “f---” has risen through the ranks of English etymology to become the “Good God” and “Allahu Akbar” of the godless. It is simultaneously an exclamation and entreaty, a proclamation and a prayer. I shouted it into the water and acoustic morsels of the word bubbled up either side of my face.

Credit: Robin Cowcher

I recall asking myself, “What’s to be done about this?” Turns out it was a pointless question, because I acted before answering. Without stopping to tell Joni we........

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