Florida -- Afraid Of Sharks? Try Swimming With Them While They Eat . . .

Sixty-five feet below the surface of the Atlantic, off the coast of South Florida, four Caribbean reef sharks dart back and forth in front of me. At the moment, however, I am less concerned about the sharks than the rapidly decreasing amount of air in my scuba tank.

Watching these Lords of the Deep swoop in and devour chunks of bloody bonito a few feet away, I am acutely aware that I am breathing much harder than normal.

I check my pressure gauge. Lots of air left. I make a mental note: Try not to drown in front of the sharks; they might interpret it as a sign of weakness.

One thing is certain about sharks. They take an awful lot of blame.

The Monroe County, Fla., Sheriff's Office said William Covert, 25, a Michigan graduate student, disappeared while collecting tropical fish off Indian Key on Sept. 13. Five days later, divers found what remained of his shredded T-shirt, sweatpants and weight belt.

Was an attack possible? Sure. Experts said it was also possible that Covert, who often ignored diving safety rules, drowned first.

Fear of swimming

Until I became a scuba diver, I regarded sharks like much of the general public: I was scared to death of them. I was even afraid to see "Jaws" when it was released 20 years ago. If I saw the film, I reasoned, I might never swim in non-chlorinated water again.

As a youngster, I spent summers at my family's beach house on the rocky shores of Mount Hope Bay in Bristol, R.I. I was quite alarmed when a neighbor caught a baby shark while fishing. Here was proof: Sharks swam in the same waters I did.

I never knew why I dreaded sharks so much, but one day more than 10 years ago - in a rare moment of self-psychoanalysis that probably saved me thousands of dollars in counseling fees - I remembered: It was probably the nuns - the Sisters of Mercy at St. Mary's Academy Bayview in East Providence, R.I.

To the best of my recollection, I was in third or fourth grade when the school showed a movie in the auditorium. I believe the film was "Captains Courageous," a 1937 classic where Spencer Tracy plays a Portuguese fisherman who rescues a spoiled rich kid who falls off an ocean liner.

At the end of the movie, Tracy ends up in the water, the lower half of his body torn away. How did his legs get torn off? A shark, of course.

Since my ethnic heritage is Portuguese, I made this subconscious connection: Sharks eat Portuguese people. I am Portuguese, therefore I am shark bait.

My fear of sharks was never a problem until I moved to South Florida 15 years ago and became a diver. Despite my fears, I had watched too many "Sea Hunt" episodes not to take the plunge.

I first confronted my shark phobia during a snorkeling trip to the Florida Keys in 1981. Boat operators at John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park in Key Largo delighted in telling tourists about "George," a bull shark that inhabited the local reefs. Of course, they always mentioned this after the vessel left the dock.

Since George hadn't eaten anyone - as far as I could determine - I figured the waters were safe. Despite several visits to the park during the next two years, I never saw George.

Then one day six of us chartered a small boat and spent the entire morning exploring three reefs. The captain asked us what we wanted to see.

I told him we had never seen George - never thinking for a minute he could locate the legendary park resident. He took us to a reef and told us where to swim. A friend and I set off to find him.

After kicking our fins for 10 minutes, there it was: a 6-foot bull shark. I'm not sure if it was George, but it didn't matter. We watched the shark for about 30 seconds that seemed like 30 minutes.

There were no glass walls between us and the shark. We were in its aquarium. I lifted my head above the surface. No dorsal fin was visible.

The shark didn't attack. Maybe it didn't know I was Portuguese. A second possibility occurred to me: Maybe sharks aren't senseless killers.

Sharks R' Us . . . really

Now, years later, I'm putting this belief to the test, having signed up for the shark encounter with Sharks R' Us in Pompano Beach, Fla. Intellectually, I know the dive is safe. Emotionally, however, I wonder if I might be the special on the day's menu.

Fifteen other divers and I are on the ocean floor a mile off the Deerfield Beach-Boca Raton line. We are armed with 4-foot lengths of PVC pipe in the event a shark wanders too close and needs prodding.

To attract the sharks, dive instructor Richard Finkus reaches into a duffle bag and pulls out 3-pound chunks of bonito. As he lets go of the bait and swims away, the slabs are surrounded by hundreds of frantic grunts, a common reef fish.

We don't have to wait long, though, for the guests of honor to arrive. Soon three 5- to 6-foot Caribbean reef sharks show up for dinner.

They seem almost timid - curious about us, but more interested in the dead fish. The sharks even seem wary of the 6-inch grunts. They make two or three cautious passes by the bait before grabbing it with their powerful jaws.

My prod is pointing downward when a curious shark swims within five feet of us. I lift my pipe and hold it straight out - just in case.

After watching these creatures circle around us and devour the free handouts for 30 minutes, the sharks seem much less frightening.

Then Big Brother, an 8-foot-long Caribbean reef shark, swims into view. My only thought: "Jesus Christ! Look at the size of that damn thing!" (Forgive me, Sisters.)

I recently rented "Captains Courageous," the film that made me terrified of sharks. I was stunned. As it turns out, Tracy loses his legs and drowns after becoming entangled in the ship's mast and rigging.

How ironic. After all these years, the shark had nothing to do with it. ----------------------------------------------------------------- DON'T LET FEAR FEED ON YOU . . .

Afraid of being attacked and devoured by a shark? You've got a much greater chance of winning the lottery.

The chances of your picking all six winning numbers in the Florida Lottery's Lotto game are 13 million to 1. Mathematicians calculate the odds of being attacked by a shark at about 1 in 300 million.

Between 1984 and 1994, sharks killed just seven people in United States waters - three each in Hawaii and California; one in Florida, a state where more people - 10 to 15 - are killed annually by lightning than by shark. (The odds of being hit by lightning, by the way, are 600,000 to 1.)

Sharks attacked about 25 people in Florida last year, according to the International Shark Attack File at the University of Florida, which documents such attacks around the world.

George Burgess, director of the bite-tracking effort, says 75 percent of those attacks involved swimmers on surfboards or boogie-boards.

He says shark attacks have risen over the years as more people use Florida's waters for recreation. The state's shark attacks last year were an all-time high, since the first attack was reported in Florida in 1882.

The real danger isn't sharks. Burgess says 4,000 people drown every year in the United States. "A shark attack is almost a non-phenomenon on a large scale," he says.