My vision of the South ­Pacific paradise is a bit different. I view the stereotypical charms — an exotically named remote island, ­caressed by heady ­breezes and surrounded by warm, azure waters with palm trees leaning over pristine beaches, etc., etc. — as mere window dressing for the ­really good stuff beneath those sapphire seas: sharks. Lots of them. Like the swarm of sleek, ­gunmetal-gray bodies circling me now.

In Fakarava’s south pass, I’m 70 feet down and lucky ­witness to a full-on sharknado. There are at least 50 gray reef sharks, maybe 100 — possibly twice that. Accurate counting would require dispassionate detachment. Impossible. I’m intimately engaged, euphoric, all senses overloaded. I cannot see them all, but I feel their presence all around me, perfect predators on patrol. Their piercing stares bore right through me. Their dusky fins slice effortlessly through the same current threatening to tear me from my perch. I so envy the sharks’ mastery of their realm, the competence and confidence with which they swagger about.

A Certain Je Ne Sais Quoi

The new French Polynesia Master brought me to this shark Shangri-La. For years we’ve been waiting for a world-class liveaboard to unlock the treasures of the Tuamotu Archipelago. It’s finally here. Launched in late 2016, this 140-foot-long steel ship was purpose-built to the highest standards of safety and comfort. Twenty-five of us from across the globe have assembled for this 10-night cruise in the Tuamotus scattered 200-plus miles northeast of more-touristy Tahiti.

With exclamations of “­Unforgettable!” “Très magnifique!” and “A conveyor belt of carnivores!” all 25 of us vote to repeat the Shark-arama experience. Serge, dive operations director on board French Polynesia Master, is happy to oblige. This time we start outside Tumakohua (the local name for Fakarava’s south pass), descending 90 feet overtop cascading sheets of coral. Waves of bluestripe snapper and thousands upon thousands of paddletail snapper are reason enough to make the dive. But knowing there’s so much more inside the channel, we move on to ride the incoming current from one observatory to the next, hunkering down in reef hollows to marvel at parading walls of sharks.

Farther into the pass we photograph a curious ­Napoleon wrasse, then slide alongside a healthy, sloping garden abloom with cauliflower-shaped hard corals in dreamy pastel hues. Twenty-odd cute blacktip reef sharks are next, followed by throngs of goatfish. Then we veer right, accelerating through a shallow coral canyon on an exhilarating high-speed drift. We finish inside the calm lagoon where our Zodiac awaits to ferry us back to the mothership. Fakarava, a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve, is a must-do-before-you-die dive.

Atoll Lotta Fun

Toau Atoll proves there’s much more worth ­experiencing ­before I clock out for good. A 6:30 a.m. splash under gauzy, peach clouds starts spectacularly when my buddy, Barry, and I back-roll off the inflatable to see two mantas leisurely winging over the reef outside Fakatahuna Pass. ­After second breakfast, when the tide finally switches to ­incoming, our guide, Marc, a gregarious, swarthy Frenchman with decades of experience, expertly shepherds us through Otugi Pass in surreal 150-foot visibility. He knows just where to find respite from the strengthening current, ­allowing us to relax and shark-watch one moment, and ­sidle up close to ­sheltering ­soldierfish the next.

“Each site on each atoll has highlights,” Marc ­enthuses during our impromptu slide show in the ship’s salon while the boat repositions. GoPro footage of mantas, photos of tiger sharks, and macro shots of a flirtatious nudibranch ­doing its skirt-lifting routine showcase what could be a week’s worth of sightings but instead represents only ­today’s dives. French ­Polynesia Master’s island-hopping itinerary through the Tuamotus means we’ve barely scratched the surface. ­Exploring the top five atolls from our floating ­hotel is a huge advantage over ­land-based diving operations.

Apataki has no such ­option. Liveaboard is the only way to dive this atoll. The only crowds here are seen underwater in Tehere Pass, where guide Christophe shows us thick schools of blue-streak fusiliers, surgeons and ­emperors, and squadrons of — you guessed it — the sharky kind. We’ll take this company any day.

On kidney-shaped ­Kauehi Atoll, my group of five jostles with three dozen gray reef sharks in Arikitamirio Pass’ shark pool, a depression on the seabed perhaps 200 feet across. We’re also favored with dogtooth and yellowfin tunas, grouper, and ­schooling bonito. The next group of five — French Polynesia ­Master staggers dive teams to give guests elbowroom — has even more gray ­reefers, whitetips, nurse sharks, and a 10-foot-long ­tiger. ­Later, ­riding the outgoing ­current, we tour Kauehi’s outer ­fringing reef. I shoot macro portraits of flame angelfish, raccoon butterflyfish, sailfin tangs and amorous surgeonfish chasing each other in the moody pre-dusk light.

Save the Best for Last

We’re up with the sun. ­Barry and I join a handful of other keeners — coffees and cameras in hand. From up on the yacht’s fourth deck, we gaze toward turbulent waters, the mascaret, or tidal bore. Waves dance chaotically with swirling, surging currents in Rangiroa Atoll’s ­legendary Tiputa Pass. I bet I’m not alone in wondering just what’s in store for us today.

Could it possibly top the hawksbill turtle, oblivious to the paparazzi as it happily munched on coral ­rubble? Or the resident barracuda school? Will gray reef sharks stack up in the deep again? Will the eagle ray visit again? The silvertips? Those playful bottlenose dolphins that interacted with my shipmates above while I, oblivious to the world, focused on the bulletproof turtle? And what about that magnificent great h­ammerhead shark that stole our collective breath when it imperiously charged by the group? Yesterday’s dives were epic. Can today live up to all that?

“Dolphins!” The exclamation breaks my reverie. Sure enough, there are dolphins jumping in the pass, ­surfing the waves. I smile, now ­certain that my South Pacific paradise awaits below.