In 1949, Ian Fleming bought a blank naturalist’s notebook which he grandly labeled “Sea Fauna or the Finny Tribe of Goldeneye.” Bound in leather and its title embossed in gold, he took it with him when he departed London for his beloved Jamaica, where he would immerse himself in the island’s natural beauty and dive among its plentiful barracudas. He called two of the larger specimens Bicester and Beaufort, similar to creatures seen in “Thunderball,” one of a dozen novels he would later write about a certain British spy.

Sixty years on, the pristine Jamaica of James Bond’s creator is in danger. Overfishing has imperiled the barracuda’s habitat: Fewer algae-eating fish spurs coral die-off, and the practice of fishing with dynamite has had catastrophic effects. But over the past seven years, a former record company executive has slowly built a network of conservationists to help protect the ecosystem near Fleming’s home, dubbed Goldeneye, creating a template for others in the process.

Chris Blackwell, 81, founded Island Records and launched Bob Marley’s career, among others. He’s the son of Blanche Lindo, Fleming’s close friend, and he now owns Island Outpost, a chain of boutique luxury, nature-oriented resorts. Its gem is GoldenEye, where guests can rent the original Fleming villa near the village of Oracabessa (“GoldenEye” is also the name of a 1995 Bond film). The Oracabessa Foundation, which operates as the headquarters of Blackwell’s conservation efforts, is located there.

Jamaica is undergoing unprecedented growth. The Jamaican Ministry of Industry, Investment and Commerce teamed up with Jamaica Promotions Corp. and China Export-Import Bank to create “Brand Jamaica,” with $10 billion made available to companies looking to build there.

Blackwell, with the help of wealthy supporters such as Jay-Z and Beyonce, has focused his resources on preserving Jamaica’s marine ecosystems, fighting overfishing, coral reef destruction and the threat posed by easy development dollars. The critical difference between Oracabessa and previous preservation efforts is the deep involvement of the local fishermen who are affected most.

“It is a model for all the other fish sanctuaries across the island,” Blackwell said. “It seemed to me to make so much more sense if you could talk to the people and hear what they’re saying.”

In Fleming’s day, Oracabessa was a thriving fishing and banana port. That began to slow after the island’s independence from the U.K. in 1962. Amid political upheaval and economic decline, overfishing became rampant. Decades of dynamiting reefs in a bid to harvest fish set off a vicious cycle that, in tandem with climate change, has managed to shrink the habitat. Today, Jamaica has one of the most depleted fish stocks of any nation.

Enter Jonathan Gosse, a 48-year-old Wisconsin native and executive director of Blackwell’s foundation. In November, he helped establish the Oracabessa Marine Trust, a partnership with fishermen of the local St. Mary Fishermen’s Cooperative. It formalized a collaboration dating back to 2011 to build the Oracabessa Bay Fish Sanctuary, a no-fishing zone the length of the town. As fishermen head farther out, the hope is that the protected area will eventually replenish its stock of doctor fish, lionfish and snapper.

Gosse first had to negotiate an agreement with the community’s leader, David George Murray. Murray, 56, is president of the Oracabessa Fishers Association, which represents 100 local fishermen. He grew up helping his father and grandfather fish, and witnessed the catch dwindle over time. He agreed that if something weren’t done, and soon, there would be nothing left. Today, he’s a member of the sanctuary’s executive board and appoints wardens to patrol for fishermen working in unauthorized areas.

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