“It’s a blacktip,” Jake shouts. “Nah, it’s a mako—” “Dude, I just saw the black tip on its dorsal fin—” “She’s a blacktip for sure,” calls Rob, settling the debate. “Looks like a juvenile.” He wrestles it into the net as it continues to fight and thrash. It’s about as long as my arm from fingertips to shoulder. At its thickest point, it’s probably as big around as my thigh. The thing has small, beady eyes and charcoal black tips on all its fins.
