“I was dragged into the murk. I clawed at the sand in hope of grabbing a rock to hit it with and pry my leg out from its jaws”

We were in the Jardines de la Reina archipelago off the south coast of Cuba, looking for the mysterious ‘Reina’ – a giant hammerhead that locals said had been spotted around the area. Interested to see if ‘Reina’ was indeed just one large female or in fact many different sharks, I decided to head into the mangroves at night to see if we could come across one hunting.

Once in the water we were treated to sightings of big sharks – silkies and Caribbean reefs – but no hammerheads. However, we did encounter a 3m-long American crocodile.

After we’d taken a few photos and some video footage it disappeared into the darkness and we decided to end the dive. My microphone had been acting up, so I wasn’t able to speak to my colleagues underwater.

My dive buddy motioned that he was heading up to the surface and, not wanting to get hit in the face by his fins, I waited a few seconds before my own ascent.

Suddenly I felt a hard pressure on my left calf – and then I was dragged into the murk.

For a few seconds I clawed at the sand in hope of grabbing a rock or something else to keep me from being dragged away, or to use it to hit the big carnivore and pry my leg out from its jaws.

There were no rocks in the mangroves, so I began hitting my microphone button, hoping someone would hear me. There was no reply. I made sure to keep my leg still to prevent the crocodile from biting harder or, worse, rolling – possibly taking my leg off.

Just as I was racking my mind to think what else I could do, the croc let me go. Once free from its jaws, I filled my scuba vest (buoyancy control device) with air and shot up to the surface. Fortunately, I didn’t suffer from the bends despite this hasty ascent. As soon as my head was above water, I pulled off my mask and said: “I’ve been bit.”

My team dragged me out of the water and ripped open my suit: the croc had inflicted three deep puncture wounds. More painful than the bite was the cleaning process; we were in the middle of nowhere, so they used a mix of bleach and water with a high-pressure hose. After a few touch-and-go nights and a hospital trip, I went home to Australia – with a wicked scar and the most dramatic story.