Having said that, this is the moment I have been dreaming of for so long. I turn back to the murderous assault unfolding before me, ignore the bumps of the passing sharks and concentrate on documenting the pursuit of their real victims. Anyway, my adrenaline levels are now so high that I don't think I would have even noticed losing a leg or safety diver unless it ruined my shot!

I'm in full-automated film mode now and scan the action for shots. It's virtually impossible. Just as one shot seems to finish there's another burst of action that leads straight into another. The visibility is getting worse, and I check the position of the sun, always trying to keep it behind me unless I sink down to silhouette the action against its glow.

It's snowing. Thousands of small silvery sardine scales cascade down and the water turns oily as the fish are mashed up by the diners. I feel as if I am in one of those souvenir snow domes you keep on your desk as a paperweight.

The bait ball is getting smaller and its motion increasingly frantic, becoming the true definition of mass hysteria if there ever was one. The dolphins are wheeling around in tight, highly organized packs, faster and faster. The bombing from the gannets above is incessant, and the sharks brush past, mouths agape, automatically chomping into the melee.

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