This is our first dive in Saba on this visit and we are not disappointed. The thrill of dropping down through the thick denim blue is only surpassed by the sight of a nassau grouper waiting to greet us at the bottom of the line.

We drop to our maximum depth of 130 feet and swim clockwise around the pinnacles. The pinnacle has a sheer side, dropping to who knows what. Brian gives me the shark sign, as a reef shark flashes by. Later we see its outline, temptingly below us, as if it knows that we have already hit our maximum depth.

Underwater everything appears 25 per cent larger, but in Saba the optics seem to work differently; everything is a hundred per cent bigger. The black durgons are huge yet still seem able to slide into slim cracks in the rocks; the bar jacks are seriously large fish; and, the brown chromis are so much bigger than we are used to seeing that at first we think they are Creole fish.

We ‘wow’ our way round, amazed by the size of the barrel sponges and the ridiculously large purple organ sponges. Deepwater sea fans grow from the cliff like spider’s webs, their size reflecting the probable size of their catch.

Creole wrasse are feeding all around us, spotted eels peer out from crevices, a burfish—orange spines erect—peeks out from under a small overhang. A jumbo-sized Queen triggerfish makes a regal pass and a scrawled cowfish competes for the weirdest-looking-fish award.

Too soon, it is time to ascend. As if to compensate us for our loss, an old and gnarled hawksbill turtle swims over to us. We must ascend, our computers demand it, but our hawksbill seems to understand and follows our slow progress back to the mooring rope. Swimming among our small group of divers, he looks from side to side, as if to exchange a polite greeting. We nod back, welcoming it to our group, and delight in the company of our new companion.

How could we have thought Saba would disappoint?