17
“Oh shit!” Forest jumped. I looked over to see the line burning out of his hand like a rocket.
“Here!” I threw him the old towel Agwe had said to wrap our hands with when a fish hit.
“Watch the spool, man!” I yelled, as it almost flew out of the boat. I quickly brought in my bait while the boat rocked wildly and we tried not to freak out.
“You’re supposed to man the spool, Joey!” yelled Forest.
I stumbled to the stern of the small boat. It was sudden and total chaos.
“I’ve got the spool. Dude, it’s almost out of line. We have to stop the fish.”
Forest had a death grip on the line with both hands. I could make out veins bulging at the front of his biceps as he jerked repeatedly with each thrust of the fish’s tail.
“How in the hell?” said Forest.
I watched the line on the spool and figured we only had forty or fifty feet left. The pressure was so intense it was causing the stern to nearly take on water.
“Remember what Agwe said?” I asked. “You’re supposed to be on the bow.” Forest let out a little more line to make the shift to the front of the boat. It sounded like he was plucking a guitar string each time the line rolled off his finger tips. He slowly eased his way along the port side, the weight of the fish dragging the back of his hands across the wooden rails.
On the bow, he held his ground while the line continued peeling out of his hands. Forest was only losing the battle, not even gaining a centimeter back. The last bit of line was approaching like someone hanging by their fingertips from the edge of a cliff. Thirty seconds, maybe forty-five and that would be it. There would be no fish, no line.
“Forest, this is it, man. We’re about to lose the line. Wrap it around your hand. I will too.”
“Ah shit,” said Forest. The end of the line was now disappearing off the floor of the old boat. I used the base of my tshirt as a towel and wrapped the line three times around my right hand. Forest did the same. This went against all of my instincts, especially after the lessons learned on the Andros. But as I saw the last few feet of line slipping away, I knew we didn’t have any other choice. We could lose the fish, but not Agwe’s line.
“Joey, hang on for your life, man. This is Jaws’ mother.”
The boat surged forward. The pressure I felt on my right hand was shocking and probably nothing compared to what Forest was feeling.
“Which way are we going?” yelled Forest. His arms were fully extended while his head hung over the bow. I was on the floor of the boat, putting weight on his legs.
“I don’t know. What difference does it make?” I grunted. The pain was starting to shoot from my ribs to the rest of my body.
“This won’t work,” said Forest. “If he dives we can’t do shit but sink the boat and get our fingers ripped off.”
“Damn it,” I said, and looked around to get an idea of direction. “North I think. He’s swimming parallel to the shore.”
We were picking up speed and moving about twice as fast as we would be rowing.
Sweat was dripping from Forest like a leaking faucet above me.
“Shampoo and tampons,” moaned Forest.
“For Becca,” I responded.
“Yeah, for Becca,” he whispered.
Forest was leaning further and further over the boat. He started with just his hands over the side. Within a few minutes that had changed to his arms and face. Then his chest was over the dark waters, and his feet were clutched under the seat with my weight on them.
“Dude, you’re about to get pulled in,” I shouted.
“Can you just make sure you got my feet, man?” Forest mumbled. “I don’t want to swim with this thing.”
“I got you.”
The pulling grew in intensity. The fish wanted him in the water, and I held onto him with the little strength I had. I looked up and watched the stars to try and take my mind off of my body.
“Damn, I’m thirsty,” said Forest.
“Me too. Can you see anything?” I asked.
“No, but he’s slowing down.”
“Still parallel?” I asked.
Forest tried to look around. “I think we are going in circles. The lantern is closer.”
“Good. Hang in there, man,” I replied.
“Fishing is some crazy shit. Just don’t let me go.”
“I won’t.”
The boat was obviously moving slower. It gave us some needed hope that carried a shot of adrenaline with it. We had been fighting the big fish for at least forty minutes.
“Man, I can’t pull the line,” said Forest.
“What?”
“My muscles aren’t working. I can’t pull it in. I can only hold it.”
“I’d switch with you, but I’m spent too.”
“Just don’t let me go,” said Forest.
“I won’t.”
“Hey, did you hear that?” asked Forest.
“No.”
“That. Laughing,” said Forest.
My teeth ground involuntarily together while I lifted myself up to take a look over the side.
“It’s Agwe on the beach,” I said.
“Hooked one?” shouted Agwe.
“Yeah!” yelled Forest. “Help!”
“What’s he doing?” I asked.
Forest slowly turned his head in the direction of the beach.
“Shit. He’s dancing,” said Forest.
“Damn it.”
There were deep red marks appearing on Forest’s chest from rubbing against the edge of the rowboat. “Your chest is about to start bleeding, man,” I said.
He shook his head, “I’m hurting all over.”
It seemed the big fish was ready to endure all night if he had to. I wasn’t so sure about us.
“I come around to other side.” It was the voice of Agwe, and he sounded close to us.
“He’s close,” I said. “Where the hell is he?”
I peered just over the edge of the port side while keeping my leg and right arm on Forest. I couldn’t see Agwe anywhere.
“”Over here, Joey,” said Agwe.
I turned my head around and saw his shape in his dugout canoe. He was paddling behind the boat and away from us out to the ocean. “What are you doing?” I shouted.
“We need to push him to the beach,” said Agwe.
“How?” groaned Forest.
“You hold on. Don’t give up,” said Agwe.
He paddled out in front of us to our starboard side some forty or fifty feet away.
“It’s big,” shouted Forest. “He’s going to eat you and that little boat.”
“No. We will eat him, Forest. Have faith!” shouted Agwe with a deep laugh.
He took his paddle and started smacking it against the surface of the water. The echo was so loud it almost sounded like a gunshot. The fish turned toward the beach and took us with him.
“Have you ever had Shark steaks over a wood fire, pimento wood that is?” shouted Agwe. “Shark steaks that marinated all day in coconut milk and spices?”
“No,” we both said in tired voices.
“It will change your life,” said Agwe, as the echo of the paddle smacking the water continued to pulsate through the air. “Do you feel it, Forest?” he asked.
“I feel like shit,” said Forest.
“You feel much more than shit,” said Agwe.
“What the hell is he talking about?” I asked.
“I’m just trying to ignore him,” mumbled Forest.
“The wind on your back!” shouted Agwe. “The power of the fish in your hands. The stars reflecting on the dark water. Watch them! Watch them as they pass slowly under your boat. The smell of salt and the taste of sweat in your mouth. The feeling that you might drown or get eaten. The pain in your muscles and sting in your eyes. The sense of nobility rising in your chest while you grind into the depths of yourself for your sister and your friend. Not shit. Life! Life!”
Agwe smacked the water again
like a madman. We were now only sixty or seventy feet from shore, but the shark was swimming parallel now and wouldn’t move any further to the shallow water.
“What next?” yelled Forest.
“Jump out of the boat and move to the beach. Pull him onto land,” said Agwe.
“That can’t be right,” I told Forest.
“Then what if he takes out all our line? Then what?” yelled Forest.
“Then you get back in the boat for round two,” said Agwe.
“Oh, hell no,” I mumbled from the floor.
“It’s too deep,” yelled Forest.
“No. Not even to your waist there,” shouted Agwe.
“Just doesn’t seem right to get in the water,” I said.
“You can let me go Joey.”
I released Forest’s legs, and he immediately went face first into the water. Agwe was right. The water didn’t even reach his waist. I hopped out, or more like flopped out, and held onto the boat. The rush of the cool salt water felt refreshing.
“Now you can pull with your legs,” shouted Agwe. Forest leaned back and slowly moved toward the beach.
The fish made a sudden surge back to deep water and we quickly lost what little ground we had covered. At this point I wasn’t doing much. But I stayed with Forest in the dark, waist deep water. We both scanned the horizon in hopes of seeing the fish.
“Fin!” shouted Forest.
“I didn’t see it.”
“Big fin, man,” he said, too exhausted to say more.
“Shark fin?” I asked.
“I have no idea. I guess.”
Within seconds Agwe was beside us. He took the spool and let out ten feet of line.
“Joey, grab the end. Now we can pull him on the beach together. Get a strong grip, wrap the line half way on your right hand. One, two, three.”
It felt like we were dragging a car out of the ocean. Forest and Agwe were facing the land, but I walked backwards and kept my eye on the dark water around my feet. We slowly made our way to knee deep water. The fish was still at least a hundred feet further out.
“Rest. Count to ten,” said Agwe. “Nine, Ten, pull!”
We were almost to the beach. I turned around and could make out a large, dark shape slowly gliding back and forth in the water like a submarine.
The Less Fortunates Page 17
