Suddenly Casey’s line began screaming off the reel and the light rod bent over nearly double. Her mouth and eyes opened wide and she struggled for breath. Gaffer called over, “Just hold on. It’ll stop running in a second and you can begin reeling. Don’t try to reel against the drag. It won’t help at all.” About ten seconds later the running stopped and Casey held the rod upright. The tip of the rod was bent at a severe angle and the whole rig was shaking and twitching wildly. Gaffer showed Casey how to lift and reel gently and gain line back little by little.
“Patience,” said Max. “Just take your time and don’t jerk on the line. If you move in smooth motions you’ll catch this fish. If you jerk the line you’ll lose it.”
Casey turned to Gaffer. “Here, you catch it. I’m scared.”
“No, no,” said Gaffer. He laughed, as did P.J. and Max. “There is nothing to be afraid of. The fish is out there and you’re safe in here. He can’t get you. In fact he’s more scared than you are. Otherwise he wouldn’t be tugging so hard. Anyhow, I want you to catch this fish and see what it’s really like. You’ll thank me soon enough.”
Casey continued reeling and taking instructions from Gaffer and Max. In three minutes the line was at a much steeper angle and she could see that there was something in the clear water about twenty feet below. It had lost it’s fight and was becoming much easier to bring in. The rod was still twitching and the line was taut, but within only a few seconds the fish was right behind the transom of the boat.
“OK, hold on. Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Gaffer grabbed the line and lifted the four pound fish into the air. “This is real nice,” he said. “It’s a beautiful ramora. They’re good for the ocean and good for the sharks and rays. We let them go.” Rather than handle the fish Gaffer took his bait knife and cut the line an inch away from the ramora’s mouth. It splashed into the water and darted off.
Casey sat panting on the leaning post. “That was real fun. I’m out of breath. It’s totally exhilarating. You were right, I’m glad you made me finish catching it. What’s a ramora all about. It was beautiful.”
“Ramoras are those fishes you see in the pictures hanging from sharks and rays. They go all over them cleaning parasites off. They can even go into sharks mouths safely without fear of being eaten. They’re really cool and beautiful too.” Gaffer tied another hook onto Casey’s line while P.J. and Max reeled in their hookups.
The yellow tails had arrived in force and for the next hour there was barely a time when someone was not hooked up. Max said to Gaffer, “Open the fishbox and count up those tails. When we get to twenty five, we’ll go try something else.”
Gaffer did as asked and reported to his father, “Twenty seven tails, two lanes and a mutt.”
“Wind ‘em up,” said Max. “Time to blow this place and try something else. How’s the ice holding up?”
Without answering Gaffer pulled two bags of ice from the cooler and poured them into the fishbox. This should last for the rest of the day. P.J. and Casey reeled in their lines. P.J. handed his rod to Max and Casey handed hers to Gaffer. They returned them to the rod holders in the bow and selected two Star rods in the twenty five pound class with TLD twenty fives. This they matched with two more Stars with Penn International thirties. P.J. attended to the anchor while Max checked his headings on the Global Positioning Satellite. Gaffer began rigging trolling lures and Casey made herself comfortable on the leaning post along side Max. When the anchor was stowed and P.J. crowded along side Casey, Max throttled up to 3500 RPMs for the twenty minute trip to the trolling grounds known as Jurassic Park.
Casey watched in wonderment as Gaffer went through his rigging procedures. He let out the port outrigger while Max handled the one on the starboard side. Lines were tied off, baits were skirted, teasers were deployed. Max and Gaffer performed each of these tasks wordlessly as they had hundreds of times in the past. Their degree of coordination was amazing and Casey watched the show as P.J. temporarily held the wheel.
“Now what do we do?” asked Casey.
P.J. responded, “Now we wait forever for something to happen. I hate trolling. All we do is move around at slow speeds hoping to see birds or whatever. It’s nap time for me.” He walked to the bow and stretched out on the cushions.
Gaffer chimed in, “Trolling can be slow but it can also be very exciting. Some days we drag lines for hours at a time and nothing ever happens. Other times we hook up pretty good and spend the day knocking ourselves out. Here in Jurassic Park we’re in very good marlin country. We could get very busy out here.”
Having said that, they spent the next two hours trolling back and forth, watching for birds and hoping for something to happen. From time-to-time Gaffer would change a worn out bait or wind in a line to dislodge sargasso weeds. It was going to be a boring afternoon if something did not happen soon.
And happen it did. A skirted ballyhoo on the TLD 25 got a sudden hit. The line snapped out of the outrigger clip and the rod bent forward. Line screamed off the reel almost without resistance. Max cut the speed to idle. Gaffer reached into the leaning post and retrieved a rod huki. This device was placed on the butt end of the rod and the entire rig was handed to Casey. “Now just keep the line tight and reel. Don’t let it go slack for even an instant. If you keep it taut, the fish will have less of a chance of throwing the hook. Keep it tight and reel.”
Casey got a steady hand on the reel handle and another on the rod above the reel. The huki was leaning against her lower abdomen as it should be. With Gaffer’s close instruction Casey did everything right. She pulled up on the rod and reeled down. Max kept the speed up as necessary. P.J. got up from his nap to see what all the excitement was about.
“What do you think, Gaffer? What is it?” asked Casey.
“We’ll know in no time at all. It’s not real big. I’m guessing maybe a dolphin in the twenty five pound class.”
“How would you know that?” she asked.
“I don’t. It’s a guess. If I’m right it’ll jump any time now. Keep reeling.”
Casey took in as much line as she could and a minute later the bull dolphin broke through the surface and wiggled like crazy. Casey squealed which caused Max to laugh out loud. P.J. came back to where Casey and Gaffer were working in the pit. Ten minutes later the fish was tiring and Casey was reeling nearly at will. Max slowed to an idle as Casey brought the fish along side the boat. With the four inch gaff hook in his hand, Gaffer leaned over the side and leadered the line. With the gaff in his right hand and the line in his left, he reached down and in a single motion gaffed the dolphin through its back and lifted it into the boat. Max opened the door to the fishbox and Gaffer threw the wildly bucking fish into the box, gaff and all.
“Nice catch,” said Max. “That’s easily a thirty pound bull. It’ll feed your family and mine and a few others as well. We’ll clean it after it dies. Those dolphins flop around like crazy and a big one like that could break your leg.”
The day was hot and P.J. was bored to distraction. “Can we go now?” he asked. “It’s a nice fish but enough already.”
“I’m ready,” said Max. “Are you two ready?”
“Let’s head back,” said Gaffer. “I’ll clean the fish on the way in. I just want to put this gear away first.” He moved around the pit unsnapping swivels, winding up leader lines and storing the rods. Max idled toward the marina until Gaffer was finished stowing the equipment. Casey sat on the jump seat with P.J. while Max drove and Gaffer set up a cleaning station in the stern. Thirty minutes later Bimini Twist entered the Boat Harbour Marina. Gaffer had the cleaning station put away, the filets were on ice and he had a dock line in his hand. As Max maneuvered the boat into its slip, Lisa appeared on the dock. She was glad to see her men and Casey return safely but she looked grim. She had bad news to report.
Four
Skeeter Pincus
“Nobody knows better than I do that we have our differences. I don’t like a thing you do and you don’t like me
.” From the marina office at Boat Harbour, Max was yelling into the phone. Skeeter Pincus was talking from his residence in Great Guana Cay. “We can get to those problems later, but for now we have to put those differences aside and cooperate on this. And we have to decide to do it right this minute. There is no time to waste.”
Skeeter was one of the gill-netters Max so disliked. Fishermen, if one would call them that, who used long, deep nets to scoop up everything in their paths, often capturing and killing endangered fish and turtles. It was an indiscriminate waste of the seas resources and the whole thought of it angered Max. But right now he had bigger things on his mind and everybody had to move fast. Gaffer had taken the boat over to the gas dock. His instructions were to fill the main and reserve gas tanks and check the oil reservoirs. Lisa ran to the room to fill the cooler with food for a day and a night. P.J. led Casey off the boat and returned to lend a hand. Max made telephone calls. Twenty five minutes after they entered the marina from their yellow tail excursion, they were headed back out. Lisa reluctantly stayed behind.
Before Max hung up, he had a promise of help from Skeeter. He had also assembled several other volunteers. A flotilla of four boats lead by Bimini Twist rounded the marker at Point Set Rock and headed north. Skeeter made plans to meet up with them 500 yards off Man-O-War Cay. On board he had 2,000 yards of netting and twice that length of line. All the boats had stored as much safety equipment, scuba and snorkel gear and provisions as they could before they started out on the rescue mission.
A pod of pilot whales, perhaps sixty in number, had gotten lost and entered the Sea of Abaco. Four had already beached themselves and were dying. The rest were doomed if something did not happen fast. To the north was a very shallow area at Treasure Cay, jutting nearly all the way across the Sea. The area was crowded with sand bars and flats. To the south was land, Marsh Harbour, Hope Town and Elbow Cay, and shallow areas around Parrot Cays and Lubber’s Quarters Bank. The only hope for the pod was if they could get turned around and led out the way they came in.
Max pushed the twin throttles to the wall and within twenty minutes of leaving the marina pulled up along side Skeeter’s boat, Conchy Lady. “Did you see them on the way down here?” Max asked Skeeter.
“I passed them about two miles north of here headed this way. The further south they get the worse it will be. We have to turn them around fast. I figure the best place to take them is back through Whale Cay Passage. That’s probably where they came in.”
“North Man-O-War Channel is only two miles over that way,” said Max pointing to the northeast. “But I’ve never been through it. What do you think?”
“It’s way too narrow and there is shallow water on both sides. We’ll have to lead them for about eight miles to Whale Cay and then a little longer out to sea, maybe two miles more. We’ve got fifteen feet of water most of the way. That should be enough to keep them safe.”
“Ok, let’s do it.” Pointing to the other boats Max said, “We’re all on channel seventy-two. Go ahead and set your radio there. By the way, Skeet, thanks. This is a decent thing you are doing.”
“Forget it,” said Skeeter. “Let’s just get busy. You take this line over to that big Key Wester and tell him to move around to port and drag it out about a half mile. All the whales are contained within a line shorter than that. We’ll set up the net and move slowly at them. No faster than idle speed until they turn and move with us. Then we might be able to go five or so knots. It’ll take time but it will be worth it. No reason to be in a hurry. The other boats should follow behind or at our wings. They can round up any whales that get outside the net and move them back to the pod.”
“Consider it done,” said Max. “Do you want some help. Both of my sons are with me and I don’t need two of them to help me here. You’re welcome to the extra help if you need it.”
“Can either of them drive a boat? I could use that kind of help while I work on the deck.”
“Gaffer, climb over there.” Then to Skeeter he said, “Gaffer is a good driver and he has lots of common sense. You tell him what to do once and he’ll get it done. He’s also handy around the deck.”
Gaffer climbed onto Conchy Lady and walked to the wheelhouse. “I’m ready now if you want to work with the net. Just give me a heading.”
Skeeter looked at the chart with Gaffer. “Aim us at the west side of these rocks here. It’s Fish Cays. We’ll have to go around to the north end of the pass. Give me five minutes on the deck to start the nets and you can take off. It’s about 285 degrees. Remember, slow. We don’t want to injure the animals.”
Max ran the lead line of the net over to Fantasea for Dave Sprague to tie to his rear starboard cleat. Dave then steered his boat to port and reeled off 1,000 yards of net. Orange buoys kept the top edge of the net afloat while ten ounce leads spaced twelve feet apart made the bottom edge sink. Max lifted the radio handset to call to the other boats. They were all idling around the area monitoring their VHFs. “All right you guys, we’re almost ready to get started. Radio check.”
“Starling here,” came the first response.
“Loud and clear, Starling,” responded Max.
“Tight Lines standing by,” said Mark Austin.
“Ten-four, Mark.” replied Max.
“Fantasea, radio check.”
“Got you, Dave,” said Max. “Coco Loco, check in. Can you hear me?” Max looked over to where Coco Loco was idling around and waved his arms. He held up his microphone for Katie Collins to see and she waved back. It appeared to Max like she was having radio trouble. He pointed to his microphone but Katie gave a hand sign that indicated her radio was not receiving. Tight Lines was the closest boat to Bimini Twist, only thirty yards away. Max got back on the air. “Mark, Katie is not receiving or transmitting. Swing by here and I’ll give you a hand-held to pass over to her.”
“Ten-four,” came Mark’s reply, and Tight Lines idled over to Bimini Twist.
P.J. reached way over and handed the portable radio across. “It’s on and tuned to channel seventy-two. All she has to do is key it to talk. Tell her to give us a radio check when she gets it.”
Tight Lines backed away from Bimini Twist and headed over to where Coco Loco was waiting. A minute later Max and P.J. heard, “Coco Loco, radio check.”
At the same time three radios responded, “Loud and clear.”
Max called to the other boats, “All right, listen up. Skeeter and Fantasea have tied the net off between their boats. It’s set to cover everything from the surface to twelve feet down. We’re going to open it to a scope of 1,000 yards. That does not mean that some of the whales will not sneak under the net and some other stragglers might be outside of the scope. You other boats look for stragglers and do the best you can to round them up. I’m guessing they will want to try to stay together. I’ll be riding around running interference and generally trying to keep this operation together. I’ll coordinate the activities, so call me if there is a problem. Any questions?”
Fantasea came back, “It’ll be a mess if someone doesn’t monitor every move Skeet and I make. This is a difficult operation. My navigation is going to be very limited having to keep my mind on the net and the pod.”
Max radioed back, “I’ll go out ahead about a half mile and lead the way. I’ve got my GPS and charts to guide me to the passage. But I don’t have radar and I would not like to run up on Fish Cays. When you see them on the radar a mile ahead of your position, you need to let me know. We want to pass to the west. There’s a shoal area just to the north of the Cays. You guys go around both sides of it. Widen the net so the whales can clear on either side. We don’t want to force them aground.”
“I’m with you,” replied Dave. “Where’s our cargo?”
“It’s coming,” replied Max. “Can’t you see them 100 yards off your bow?”
Silence for a few seconds and then Dave replied, “There they are. I hope this will work.”
Skeeter’s voice came across the radio. “This
is going to shred my net. But, what the hell.”
Max replied, “Don’t worry about your precious net. I’ll get you a new one when this is over. Just use it any way you can to make this successful. We’ll worry about collateral damage after the whales are safe.”
Tight Lines’s radio came back, “Max, send me my share of the bill for that net.”
Katie on board Coco Loco replied, “I want my share to.”
Dave opened his radio, “Fantasea, I’m in.”
“Me, too,” replied Jason Meriweather on board Starling.
Max called over to Skeeter, “There you go, Skeet, you’ve got a new net. One hundred percent participation. Now use that thing for all it’s worth.”
“I was only saying… I was only kidding. I don’t want that,” said Skeeter.
“Never mind,” said Max. “Here they come. Tighten the net straight out. I want them to turn gently when they touch it and head back the other way. Back up with them for a while until you see them slow down or stop and then gently start in the forward direction. We want to do everything we can to keep them from getting injured or confused. Give them a little room to spread out when you stop them and then, once they are heading back in the other direction, put a little bow in it like a wide bowl. Hopefully they will stay within the net and not swim out the sides. You with me on this, Dave?”
“I’m with you,” came the reply.
“Skeeter, you understand?”
“I understand,” he said. “Here they are.”
The huge mass of the pod entered the net area. The shiny black skins bobbed up and down. Tall flumes of salt water spray spewed forth here and there. The dense pod looked like it must be a hundred whales or more. It spanned an area larger than three football fields. Max was startled at the size of the individual animals, many much larger than his own twenty six foot open fisherman. Certainly if they decided to get aggressive they could turn Bimini Twist to rubble and send it to the bottom of the sea with no effort. The pod moved much like other schools, staying together and moving in the same direction. There were no stays outside the formation. They were moving at only about four knots which would make it possible to stop them and get them to turn back around.
Abaco Gold Page 2
