No one can know. Perhaps our grandchildren, or their grandchildren, will know. But I, for one, decline to accept the end of the oceans, for to do so would be to accept the end of humanity. I see signs that we are starting to alter our course--laboriously, yes, barely perceptibly, like a supertanker beginning a slow turn in a heavy sea, but changing direction nevertheless.

More and more nations are establishing marine reserves, where sea creatures of all sorts and sizes can mate and bear their young free from the menace of man. Just as important, funds are being found for enforcement of limits, restrictions and bans. Personnel are being hired and trained; boats and planes are being deployed to monitor compliance.

As rivers are cleaned up, dams removed, pollutants flushed away, salmon are returning to waters everywhere from California to Germany, where no salmon had been caught since 1947.

Aquaculture--fish farming--has established beachheads from Maine to the tropics, from the South Pacific to the North Sea. Raising fish in enclosed pens is a complex and controversial process that can pose enormous environmental problems, but if done right, it holds great promise for feeding millions of people and providing vast numbers of jobs.

Where fishing in the wild has been banned outright, fish stocks are starting to come back. Where "street-sweeper" trawls that devastate the seabed have been prohibited, nurseries and habitats are beginning to recover.

Still, the days of abundance are gone. The image of cheap and wholesome seafood available to everyone is fading into memory and myth. Already a single tuna can cost more than most automobiles. Soon some oysters may be as rare and costly as pearls.

I often wish that back in the halcyon '60s, I had had the wit to release my swordfish. Its kind will not come our way again.

Known for the novels and screenplays that have spawned such movies as Jaws and the TV series Peter Benchley's Amazon, the author has narrated dozens of films on ocean conservation.

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