by Captain Bill Goldschmitt & Marisa Mangani
Danny helped me push the boat from the dock into the bay before I started the engine. He toured it then sat at the bow. "What's with this fog, man? Every time we go out, there's a major fog. I can't even see the center of the bridge! Shows what our visibility is: half a bridge."
"Time of year. Winter. Best time for sharks." I could feel the change in me once on the boat: the serious, shark hunt mode, when I would speak facts, all else that was happening in me could not be spoken. I was used to this transformation.
Navigating from Land's End is tricky. I have to cut toward the bridge, turn and go parallel to it in order to miss a sandbar. At an outgoing tide, you could slam into the bridge pilings. At incoming tide, like this morning, you could push onto the sandbar. The navigation even trickier in fog. As I maneuvered the boat, Danny quietly looked over the side. I saw why: the clearest view of anything was in the water.
"Holy shit, Man! Look at this!"
With my hand on the wheel, I stepped from the console and peered overboard. Laying in the eelgrass in four feet of water, a rust red octopus unfurled its eight arms into a three-foot span, waving at us in the grass. That's what I love about the water: surprises. "Cool!"
Now clear of the sandbar, we motored under the bridge, where morning cars vibrated toward their destinations. We headed out into the channel, picking up speed. "So Danny," I pointed to the narrow bulge of pine tree rimmed sand, "over there's Beer Can Island . My modern- day shark factory. If we get something big enough, we'll cut it up there."
He squinted where I'd pointed. "Well, I think I see an island."
"Okay, this'll take some time." I said. "I set the line three miles offshore. Gotta go slow to keep within these channel markers. Then I'll check my heading."
"Still doing it the old fashioned way."
"Yep. Tachometer, depth meter, compass and my trusty watch." And waiting. And the salt sprinkled air. Like a musical intro before the climax; the patient anticipation of what lay ahead: the shark, big, mean and strong; the thrill of knowing the fight, the win, the prize; the free fall. All this, even before we reach the line.
After half an hour of poking through the fog, I said to Danny, "We're into the channel now. Keep an eye out."
"Yup." He leaned over the bow railing, searching for the red flags. He pointed.
"There it is! But - holy fuck!" He looked back at me with wide eyes, like he'd been stabbed in the gut and was going down for the fall. "Fuck!"
"What?"
"Fuck, Man. We done it again. We got another big ass shark!"
I closed in on the fuzzy orange dot of the marker flag. "Well, how big is it?"
"A helluva lot bigger than the one we caught on Siesta. This bitch is big!"
I was closer now to the marker flag with its styrofoam block bobbing and dragging through the calm water. Something was towing the float line. Not able to see the second marker, I thought it had been cut. "The main must be severed!" I yelled.
Danny reached for the gaff and stared into the Gulf. "Jesus! God, Bill! You won't believe the size of this son-of-a-bitch!"
I threw the engine into idle and dashed forward. "What's all the screaming abo ? " I froze. Ten feet below, a mammoth tiger pushed its weight through the water with a tidal surge. Wide as a bus, it was thirteen, maybe fourteen feet long. It had a blunt head, faint stripes and mating scars from males biting down on her back. The tip of her dorsal fin was missing ? another mating casualty. Three feet of chain leader trailed from the hook in her mouth, dangling insignificantly back to her gill slits. It looked like a piece of thread against her mass. Other parts of the line, leaders and hooks were wrapped around her. She hadn't severed the line after all. I must have had too much slack in it. Otherwise, she would've straightened the hook and been off. But she was mine now. I wouldn't let her get away. "Danny, lets do it."
"Do what? What are we gonna do with it?"
"You kidding me? We're gonna catch us a two-ton fish!" I pointed to the gaff, hanging useless in his hand.
"Yeah!" He hooked the line with the gaff. Then, pumping with adrenalin, he danced on his feet and nervously chattered, "This is like the old days, all right. You're fuckin nuts! She's not even tired yet. Lookit her! She's turning the boat. Shark power! Awesome!"
I dashed to the console, cut the engine, and was back at the bow to grab the float line as Danny brought it close. We pulled it up, broke anchor and yanked it on deck. The shark whipped around the bow. The boat rode the tidal wave. With the styrofoam block on deck now, we fumbled to secure the line on the cleat. She made a run.
The line snaked over the side, both of us slapping at it. No longer hindered by the float, the shark dove for the bottom. "Shit! That was stupid! Nothing's holding her back now!" Line got hung up on the bow cleat and the boat lurched with the tension. The monster head erupted, hung in the air for a second. Water gushed from her gill slits. She chomped the air, then went down. Gallons of water rushed around the rim of her open mouth, sounding like a flushing toilet. I fumbled with the sizzling line, fighting to get some of it onto the cleat.
Danny stood stiff. "Fuck, we can't kill this thing. Even you can't kill this thing."
"We're gonna get her, Man. We got what we're looking for!"
"No way! You got what you're looking for!"
Still, I struggled with the vibrating line. It slid around the cleat and my fingers like oiled hair. "Danny, c'mon. Why'd you come out here?" The bow lurched to the side and the line pulled off the cleat again. I grabbed a wad of it with one hand and to keep myself from going overboard, I gripped the metal bow railing with my other hand. "Ungh!" Water splashed over the bow. The shark's power stretched me out. From arm to arm, my muscles shredded with each erratic yank.
Danny yelled, "Let it go, Man! Let it go!"
I hung on, feeling like I would split in half. "Godammit, Danny! If you don't want to be running this boat back to shore yourself, get your ass over here, now! I'm not letting this fish go!" I saw his bewildered expression. Then I saw the other sharks, the ones that got away: the dead hammerhead, a big one off Egmont Key, the one that flipped the boat. Not this time. My arms felt dislodged from their sockets and my chest burned but I hung on. I looked up at the chalky, birdless sky and the world for a moment turned sideways. Cindy would be at work right now, ringing up trinkets for customers. Tonight she'd make chicken for dinner, or beans and weenies if I didn't sell enough shark meat this week. Then we'd watch Mash. Maybe have sex. The next day ? tomorrow, I'd go shark fishing and the routine would be the same. "God, let me have this shark!" The shark's tugs and jerks sent tremors of pain through me. My face was drenched with salt, sweat and tears.
"This is too MUCH, Man!" Danny shrieked.
The railing creaked. Double screws ripped from the fiberglass. "This is it! I'm going, Baby, I'm going!"
"What d'you want me to do? What d'you want me to do? WHAT d'you WANT me to do?!"
"Ungh! Grab a snap from the float line. Snap it to the rope! I can't let go til we have her!"
Danny snatched the float line and reached over me to attach it to the main line. But then, the shark slowed and started to roll, loosening the tension in the line.
"Forget the snap! The cleat!" Danny got three wraps around the cleat. The tension stretched away from my body and my muscles contracted, feeling like a million knife stabs in my chest. "Owww!!!"
"What do we do now?" Danny's voice wavered.
"Let her pull the boat. When she tires, we'll pull in the slack, get her closer."
Minutes whirled by as we silently worked the line up. When it looked like the boat would run aground on her grey hulk, my satisfaction of nearly having her was interrupted by the sickle tail, flying out of the water and smacking down on my hand resting on the fiberglass. "Aaahhh!!"
Danny winced as if it had been his own hand flattened. "Man! That musta hurt!"
"No shit!" I inspected my bloodied, throbbing fingers. Then the cleat. It only had one wrap of line left. "C'mon!" We both worked again at regaining line, me with only one hand now. Each time she lulled into a roll, Danny and I wrapped more slackened line onto the cleat. She rolled, effortless and fluid like, as we struggled, strained and yelled against her weight. Knives still sliced through my chest.
"How we gonna kill it?" Danny asked after we had four good wraps around the cleat. We both clung to the line.
"Shoot it."
"But the gun's back there! We can't let go!"
"I'll reach it." I stretched my foot behind me toward the console cushion where the single barrel shotgun lay. Ignoring the pain in my chest, I tried hooking the butt with my foot but the gun just pushed into the cushion.
"Hurry, Man."
"I'm ? try ? ing."
Finally, the butt slid, hanging off the cushion. It flipped up and landed on deck by my foot, the barrel's black eye pointing directly at us.
Danny winced. "Shit!"
"Don't worry, it's not cocked." I kicked it within arm's reach.
"Well, that's one thing working okay today."
With my good hand still on the line, I picked up the gun with my bloody hand. Danny's weak, wavering comments were grating me. Teenaged David would have given me the abandon I need out here. More so than Danny. We'd had some good times together but where was his sense of adventure? The shark's head was closer to the boat but off to the side of the bow. Shooting at an angle might cause the pellets to ricochet and hit the boat. I had to get a straight shot. She rolled again, in reverse so some line unwrapped. We pulled. Her head turned toward us. I cocked and aimed.
"You got her now!" Danny yelled. "Fire! Fire! Fire!"
The pellets glanced the top of her head. Water foamed around her. Her tail slashed at the air. The shotgun's kickback sent a blaze through my body. Something's not right.
Danny jumped back. "I'm not gettin hit with that fucking tail!"
"All, right, let's regroup. The line's around the cleat. Do what you're doing: when she rolls, get more line in. When she's close enough, I'll get another head shot." Resting the shotgun against my leg, I dug into my pocket for a fresh shell. I cracked open the breech, pushed in the shell, slammed it shut, cocked and aimed.
Danny got two more wraps on the cleat. When the shark turned her head away from us to dive under the bow, I squeezed the trigger. The blast of hot lead hit its mark. I tumbled back, caught myself. Her side-to-side weaving slowed to submission and blood gushed from her gills.
"Danny! Grab the gaff. Get her tail-roped and we'll have her from both ends!" After we secured her I looked down at her still body. Sharks like this can come back to life. An angry whack to the boat's hull with her force and we're done for. I wanted to put another shell into her but she was too close to the boat. Instead, I grabbed my steel mallet, raised it over my head and came down on her with all my pained strength. The mallet bounced up, nearly hitting me in the head. The shark lay oblivious, like a fly had landed on its head.
Danny shook his head. "That ain't gonna work. Is it stunned, dazed? I remember the last one, kicking like all hell once we pulled it onto the beach. It ain't dead is it?" He moved one step closer to the gunnel and looked over at it. "Is it?"
"Well, no. I'll do something."
"You gonna shoot it again?"
"I guess." I raised the shotgun.
Danny covered the sides of his head with both hands and turned away.
Bam! The tail flinched and banged against the side of the boat. I reached down to pull in the rest of the line but another stab in my chest halted me. "Danny. Danny, I'm really hurting."
He straightened and came over. "Yeah, I bet."
"I can barely pull in the rest of the hooks."
"I'll do it." He hoisted up the empty hooks that had been wrapped around the tiger. One of the three inch Mustad hooks had pierced her belly and nearly straightened. "Shit! What power! What a fish!"
Amazing, I thought. I couldn't even bend one of those hooks in the vice I sharpen them in. I leaned against the console and looked at my watch. It had been an hour since we'd spotted the marker flag. I watched Danny pull in the hooks. He dragged something up and said, "We gotta goldfish."
"What?"
"After that thing, everything else is a goldfish."
"Your goldfish is a seven-foot brown shark."
"Goldfish to me, Man."
He brought up another brown and the rest of the empty hooks. I shot Danny's two goldfish and we secured the lines and hooks for the ride back. Danny sat on the bow with ankles crossed, looking at the tiger shark strapped to the boat. He was quiet while I readied things at the console. I looked over at him a few times. He didn't move. Finally, he shook his head.
I clicked on the engine. "Big fish, isn't it? It's amazing how big they get."
Still shaking his head, a few moments passed before he answered. "Ignorance is bliss."
"What?"
"I can't imagine diving in this murky water. It's one thing, diving in the Keys. It's like a big, chlorinated pool down there. Hundred feet visibility. Here, what we got? Twenty feet maybe? Being down in those rocks, like we used to ? nettin beau gregories, and Mr. Sharky, Mr. Monster here comes up and taps you with his fin?"
"What do you mean, ?ignorance is bliss'?"
"It's fucked up now. I can't dive around here! After this! After today. I'll never be able to go in this water again. I'll always be thinkin Mr. Sharkey's coming by. Look how big he is! Are you gonna dive again after this?"
"I do it all the time. I don't think these come that close to the beach."
"Bill! What about that one on Siesta that dragged the line? What about your helicopter story?"
"I get your point." The point, Danny had fear. I did not. Was there something wrong with him? Or me?
"It's ruined for me now, Bill. I'll never be able to dive around here again."
We motored in silence. The only sounds the brum of the engine and sloshing water fighting the heavy hull. After a while, I just knew, I could feel it. I idled the boat and turned the wheel all the way around. "Hey, Danny, we got a problem."
"What? It's wakin up?"
"No. She's so heavy, we're going in circles."
"Oh, that's great. What, so we're gonna run out of gas out here goin in circles? The shark won't kill us but we'll just die out here, in the fog, with no gas."
"It's really hard to get a heading too. Fog's screwing with the compass."
"Got any idea which way land is?"
I studied the waves. I knew there was an inshore wind and searched for a current I could follow. And though the fog still hung thick around us, there was a brighter area portside. West. I looked the opposite direction, where small waves lapped toward a darker patch. "We'll get there. I mean we're only three miles from shore. The depth meter will show us going deeper or shallow. Screw the spinning compass."
"I could piss faster than we're goin."
I kicked up the engine and turned us toward the dark. With every movement, fire shot through my chest. I tried to adjust myself so I wouldn't hurt but it hurt no matter what. I looked over at Danny again. He was still perched at the bow, meditating on the shark. Suddenly he burst out laughing.
"What?"
"Can't call you Bill anymore."
"You got a new name for me? Sonuvabitch?"
"Nah. Gotta call you Ahab. I'm thinkin of you, yellin and screamin at me on the bow. That I'm gonna have to drive the boat back, if I don't help you. And I got a vision of you, out there on the shark's back, beckoning me ? like in Moby Dick ? to come die with you! You're insane, Man. You haven't changed a bit. You're insane and you get us to follow you. You get us to follow you!"
|
