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THE FATHERS CLUB 
The tournament started at the range markers a
quarter mile from the tip of South Bimini. Three
boats lined up and waited for Virgil Price to
shoot the starter pistol, which was actually a
flare from Bimini Twist's emergency kit.
The small fireball shot a hundred feet into the
air and glided back to earth. By the time it
fizzled out in the water, the boats were on their
way. Miss Fit could have easily taken the
lead with its twin 250 horsepower outboards and
top speed of fifty plus miles per hour, but
Skeeter and Cameron wanted to see where Gaffer
was going. Wave Dancer had the same idea,
but when Bimini Twist cleared Round Rock
at the southern tip of the island and steered a
course of 150 degrees across the Great Bahama
Bank, they were not so sure they wanted to
follow. Most of the water on the banks was clear
and deep enough to navigate, but no one on board
the yacht knew the area well enough to take the
chance. Skeeter did not know the waters in this
area very well either, and Cameron was only
mildly familiar with them. He decided to follow Bimini
Twist for a little while, but to not go so
far as to enter waters that appeared shallow or
dangerous. Wave Dancer peeled off and steered to 200 degrees. Not that anyone on board the yacht knew anything about this area, but everyone knew at least one thing, the waters between Bimini and Cat Cay had produced as many world records as anywhere else on earth. They would use the equipment they had, and couple that with their combined knowledge of fishing to see what they might produce. It wasn't exactly a foolproof plan, but it made the most of what they had. By the time Bimini Twist passed Gun Cay and continued across the banks past Cat Cay, Skeeter knew that Gaffer was headed into waters that were completely unfamiliar to him. P.J. thought he knew where Gaffer was headed, but admitted that he did not know the way himself. That was not enough information for Skeeter to take the chance of following into these unknown waters, so he made a sharp turn to the right and aimed for Gun Cay Cut. He would go outside through the channel and head south a few miles. Bimini Twist continued its way across the banks. It wound its way through known danger areas and ultimately made its way offshore by passing the southern end of Ocean Cay and emerging into first thirty feet of water, and then within minutes, three hundred feet, and then six hundred feet. Yellow I-5 was now six miles ahead on a bearing of 180 degrees. The forward facing arrow on the GPS was guiding them directly to the site. Gaffer turned the wheel over to Max and moved around the boat assembling the equipment he would need for this fishing expedition. The electric reel was taken from the center console and plugged in. The deep drop rod was attached to the curved butt and the line was fed through the roller eyes of the rod. From his deep drop kit of rigs, lights and swivels, Gaffer took what he thought he would need to get started. He tied a 200 pound ball bearing snap swivel onto the line, and from that he hung one of his six circle hook rigs and a K-light. He then attached a five pound lead to the bottom of the leader line and placed it in a rod holder to keep it from rolling around or falling on the deck and breaking something. Virgil was also a part of it. While Max drove and Gaffer tied knots and set up the deep dropping equipment, Virgil cut strips of squid and baited the hooks. He filled a small plastic container with bait strips and then poured a bucket of seawater over the deck. He then ran the long handled brush over the deck and replaced it in a rod holder. He knew the Carson's routine well and wanted to do what he could to help. By the time the rigs and bait were ready, Max was throttling down to 1,300 RPM's. The GPS said they were only a tenth of a mile from the center of the best part of the area. He continued toward the site and tuned the depth finder for the best view of the bottom. On low frequency he turned the machine to `zoom' mode so he could not only see the contour of the bottom and any clouds of fish between the bottom and the surface, but he could also have an image of the action in the first fifteen feet off the bottom. As Bimini Twist approached within the last four thousandths of a mile from the center of the site, the left side of the Furuno display began to light up. The closer to the zero point the boat came, the brighter were the colors on the display, until the screen was filled with yellow, red, and green lines so close together that there was no other background. Miss Fit was having no difficulty. P.J. had lifted his father's GPS log book from his trusty canvass bag and slipped it under his jacket before boarding with Skeeter and Cameron. In the log book were not only entries that Max had made of sites they knew and had recorded in the GPS waypoint log on board Bimini Twist, but there were also several pages of printouts from the log books of other friends who had fished the area and come across interesting sites. There were scraps of paper with coordinates scribbled on them and notes as to what had been caught on these sites. The pages with the printouts were littered with asterisks and check marks saying things like `good grouper', `flag yellowtail,' `yellow eye', `good queens', and various other notes as reminders of what had been caught there when the notation was made. Cameron laughed out loud when P.J. produced the log book. This would save him a year of researching where to go to find fish. They decided that since they did not have bottom equipment, they would look for yellow tail. They had plenty of chum, they had ten pounds of squid and five pounds of silver sides. If they could chum the yellow tails up they could load up the cooler. After a solid fifteen minutes of studying the GPS logs they decided on a spot in eighty-five feet of water mid way between South Cat and Ocean Cay. The coordinates came from the log book of one of Max's friends. It had three asterisks next to it and the notation `flag yellow tail'. This notation caught Skeeter's attention as he knew that the term `flag', when used to describe yellow tail snappers, meant the biggest of the kind, the grand-daddies. He also liked it because there were several other sites nearby that had encouraging notations in the margins. He entered the coordinates into his GPS and hit the `go to' button. The readout told him that they were eleven miles to the north of the site. Skeeter hit the throttles and turned to a heading of 190 degrees. As the miles ticked by, P.J. and Cameron prepared the cockpit for some yellowtail fishing. P.J. put the squid in a bucket of seawater to thaw and then did the same with the silver sides. He would wait until the squid was somewhat thawed before trying to cut it up into small squares that could be used as bait. Cameron began tying eighteen inch lengths of twelve pound monofilament line that he would use for leaders onto small gold J-hooks. He tied loops in the opposite ends that could be easily hooked up to snap swivels. As rigs broke off, or were too deeply imbedded into the mouth of the fish, he could simply unsnap them from the swivels and snap another one on. He had twenty of these rigs made before Skeeter reached the site. Wave Dancer trolled along the dropoff between Gun Cay Cut and Turtle Rocks. The outriggers were out and Jeremy had created a modified diamond spread just as Gaffer had taught him. Within the first hour and a half they had boated four barracuda, all of which had been returned to the ocean healthy. Will Tanner fought something big that he never saw, but it broke off after only two minutes. Whatever it was, it had to be big because all Will could do was to sit in the fighting chair and watch his line go out. Finally, with his heart racing and excitement all around the boat, they thought it must be a giant marlin, a world record, the line parted about fifty yards from the tip of the rod. That was that, the rig was lost and the fish was gone. Jeremy continued working the cockpit, bringing in lines to check them, changing out baits that had grown weary. Corporal Spears piloted the boat from the bridge and kept an eye open for signs of fish. While he was no stranger to fishing, the electronics gear on this bridge was far beyond anything he had ever seen before. He spent a great deal of time reading the instruments and trying to figure things out. There sure were a lot of knobs and buttons. Was it possible that anyone knew how to use all this gear? Of course it was, but to him it seemed overwhelming. He decided to try and master the radar. On the six mile scope he could clearly see both Cat Cay and Bimini and all the islands in between. Off to the west he also saw some spots at about two miles off. He looked and expected to see small boats, as the image on the screen was barely visible. But looking out, he saw nothing. “What does it mean when there are small dots on the screen but there is no boat to go along with them?” he called down to Tanner. “I don't know,” said Tanner. “Is that what they call a blip on the radar?” Spears didn't know if Tanner was being funny or stupid. He didn't answer. “Let me see,” said Jeremy. He climbed the ladder and peered over at the radar scope and saw the spots. He then looked over but saw no boats. “I'm not sure,” he said, “but Gaffer taught me that sometimes when it's clear you can pick up birds on the radar. Maybe it's that. And hope it is because where there are birds, there are often dolphin, and even sometimes marlin and tuna.” “You think?” asked Spears. Jeremy shrugged. “It's possible. Let's haul in these lines and go find out. We've been dragging baits nearly two hours with nothing to show for it. What do we have to lose?” Will Tanner agreed completely. He told Spears to head out to where the spots appeared on the radar. Jeremy reeled in the lines and put all but one of the rods aside. He broke out the lighter tackle and rigged for schoolies. Will Tanner was very impressed watching him work, putting on those pre-rigged 4/O hooks and preparing chum to bring the dolphins to the boat. He moved around the cockpit like a seasoned fisherman and Will Tanner was very proud of him. It took only a few minutes to reach the location of the spots on the radar screen, and Jeremy's suggestion proved to be correct. A flock of birds, possibly as many as twenty or thirty, were circling the area and diving onto the school of bait fish. From his perch on the flybridge Spears saw them first. “They're here,” he called, “and they look to be a pretty good size.” He idled into the school of dolphin and Jeremy tossed a handful of silversides overboard. At first nothing happened, the fish did not come to the bait. He worried for a moment about what he would have to do to get their attention. He had never done this before, he only knew what Gaffer had told him. Suddenly the blue torpedoes came streaming by, attacking the bait with a vengeance. Jeremy opened the bale on the spinner and tossed a line to them. The line started peeling out and he knew that one of the fish had taken the bait. He closed the bale and held on. The line jerked and a dolphin flew five feet out of the water twisting and spinning. It landed with a splash and tried to take off. Fortunately Jeremy had set the drag on the reel to the proper setting and the dolphin was able to gain about fifteen feet of line. Jeremy just held on and did not try to reel the fish in. He remembered what Gaffer had told him about keeping one fish in the water at all times and the rest of the school would stay around. It appeared to be working as the school darted around and back and forth. Will Tanner picked up a rod and baited the hook. He copied what he had seen Jeremy do and dropped the hook overboard and allowed the bait to sink. Five seconds later, when his line was running out, he closed the bale and watched his dolphin break through the surface of the water and then splash back down. Twenty-five miles to the south, the men on Bimini Twist were more certain of what they were doing. “I've never seen anything so intense,” said Virgil. “It must be wall to wall with fish.” “Those are yellow eyes,” said Max. “You won't believe what's possible here. It's amazing.” He stopped the boat and allowed it to drift for a half minute. He read the GPS and called out, “Six tenths of a knot current to the north, wind out of the southwest at about ten. Are you ready?” “Ready when you are,” said Gaffer. “Hold on, I'll bring it around.” Virgil watched as the team worked with precision. Max made a tight circle to starboard and faced the stern of the boat into the one to two foot waves. He then straightened the engines and shifted into reverse. He waited for five seconds then shifted to neutral. Gaffer did not have to wait for the rest. He knew exactly that they were ready to drop. He pulled back on the locking lever of the reel and watched as the rigs headed to the bottom. “What's our depth?” he asked. “Five eighty-five,” replied Max. Gaffer grinned at Virgil. “Piece of cake,” he said. “Five eighty-five. We can drop ten times in an hour. Another thing I like about this spot is that we catch very little else but yellow eyes, an occasional amberjack, maybe a black snapper if we drift far enough in, but rarely any sharks. And the barracuda mostly leave us alone.” “Sounds like the perfect spot,” said Virgil. “Just about perfect,” said Gaffer. At that moment the line stopped peeling off the reel. Gaffer locked up and hit the switch to bring it up a few feet. He dropped it again and locked up. Immediately the rod tip began twitching. Virgil's eyes grew wide. “That happened in an instant,” he said. “I never saw anything so fast.” “Me either,” said Gaffer. He hit the switch on the top of the reel and began bringing his catch to the surface. For the next minute the rod shook violently. There could be no doubt about it, he was definitely hooked up. In another minute Gaffer looked down and saw his rig. “Color!” he exclaimed. Virgil moved along side him. As the snap swivel holding the rig reached the tip of the rod, Gaffer released the power switch and stopped the reel. He grabbed the leader line and began pulling his catch aboard. Virgil reached under Gaffer's arm and grabbed the lead. He then swung the rod around so that the tip was facing inward, and now Gaffer had all the fish inside the gunwale. It was a good drop, six hooks, four fish; nice, medium-sized yellow eyes. Virgil placed the lead into a rod holder and slid the cooler out from under the leaning post. He opened the lid and waited patiently while Gaffer unhooked each fish and one by one dropped them in the box. “Can you believe it?” asked Virgil. “Look at that, one drop and we have four fish in the box. I've never seen anything like this.” “It's true,” said Max. “We have to be careful in this place. The last time we were here we caught a hundred yellow eyes. It took us hours to clean them and we had to scrounge around the docks in Cat Cay to find people to give them to. And, they were already fileted. Nobody wants to waste fish and it can be tempting to take too many. It's just so easy.” “Then we should put a limit on what we do today,” said Virgil. “I don't want to waste fish.” “That's a good idea,” said Max. “Let's think about it. How many can we use and give away without being wasteful?” He was moving into position for the next drop as he spoke, and Virgil was freshening the baits on the hooks as they moved around. “I'd like to take the filets from two or three home with me to Nassau. My wife loves them as much as I do.” Max swung the boat around and set Virgil up for the drop. “You should probably take five or six. That's only two or three meals. They'll last a good while in the freezer.” Virgil unlocked the reel and let the rig drop. “OK, I'll take six. What about you?” “Well,” said Gaffer, “we feed the neighborhood, the housekeeper's family, my boss, some of the people at the dock in Bimini. We need at least twenty-five.” Virgil laughed. “We're making it sound like we're placing an order and it'll be filled no matter what. We still need to catch the fish. That may be easier said than done.” “No,” said Max, “it's easier done than said. I know, our problem here is going to be controlling ourselves. I'm sure of it.” “Then let's say thirty-five,” said Gaffer. “I'm on,” said Virgil, indicating that his line had touched down on the bottom. “Thirty-five?” asked Max. Gaffer did some quick calculations in his head while Max moved the boat around for the best angle for the deep drop line. The tip of the rod was shaking violently. “How about fifty?” asked Gaffer. And to Virgil directly he said, “You better bring that up. It's full.” Virgil hit the switch that began the rig's ascent to the surface. While the rod shook the entire way up, Virgil, Max, Dunne and Gaffer discussed the question of how many fish was enough but not too much. The rig hit the surface with each of the six hooks loaded. He could see how this might be a problem. There were now ten fish in the boat and they had been on the site for fifteen minutes, and they had only dropped twice. The more they discussed it, the more they decided that it was a good problem to have. Lines in at 3:30, and weigh in at 5:00 on the docks at Cat Cay. Those were the rules. As Bimini Twist entered the channel to Cat from the southeast, it met up with Miss Fit who had just cleared the Gun Cay Cut. They pulled up along side each other and idled in together. From what Cameron was saying, the Bimini Twist team thought they had a lot to worry about if winning the tournament was important to them. They cleared the Dock Master's station at the entrance to Cat Cay Marina and proceeded past the first pier and into the basin that separated it from the second pier. There they immediately saw Wave Dancer already secure in a slip with dock lines out, shore power hooked up, and Jeremy Stoner and William Spears standing on the bridge washing the boat down. Gaffer and Skeeter parked their boats and all their passengers unloaded onto the dock. Gaffer was still in tournament mode, everyone else was just glad to be on solid land. From Wave Dancer's fly bridge Jeremy called down to Gaffer, “How'd you make out?” Gaffer slid the cooler out from under the leaning post and opened the lid. Jeremy saw that the cooler was filled about half way up with mostly yellow eyes, and with what looked like a few black snappers thrown in for good measure. “How'd you guys do?” asked Gaffer. Jeremy shrugged. “I guess that depends on how we judge the contest. We did OK, but you guys definitely caught more than we did. You definitely have more points.” Gaffer smiled. He knew they had won. When it came to fishing he almost always won. He walked over to where Cameron and P.J. were hoisting their cooler onto the dock. He waited for them to set it down and opened the lid. He was startled to see that, at five points per fish, the crew on Miss Fit had far outdone the Bimini Twist team. He rationalized that his team had put a limit on their catch and that the yellow eyes were much larger, twice as large as the yellow tails, but strictly from a competitive standpoint, and by the rules previously established, he would have to admit that Miss Fit had more points. He congratulated Skeeter and Cameron and walked over to Wave Dancer where their fish box was already open. That crew had done a good job too. It looked like they might have caught maybe fifteen or twenty nice looking dolphins. Gaffer admitted to the difficulty of finding and catching good sized dolphin at this time of year. Will Tanner climbed up onto the dock to have a look at how the contestants had done. He was surprised to see that both of the other boats had done so well. He was particularly impressed with the yellow eye and black snappers that Bimini Twist had brought back. “I don't know,” said Gaffer, “but strictly on a points basis I'd have to say that Miss Fit won. At five points each, they must have over three hundred points. We only have two sixty-five.” “And by the rules we established,” said Tanner, “we only got a hundred points. But those are nice dolphins,” he added, “and what about those?” he asked, pointing toward the end of the dock. Gaffer looked around in surprise. “What?” he asked. “Those,” said Tanner. He led the way, followed by the crews of all three boats, down the dock to where the weigh station was located. There, tied by the tails and hanging from sturdy pegs in the display board, were three bluefin tunas. Gaffer gasped when he saw them. “You caught those?” “I caught one of them, Jeremy caught two.” Then Tanner added, “But mine's the big one.” “You weighed them?” asked Gaffer. “All weighed and ready for cleaning,” said Tanner. “Well, how much?” asked Gaffer. “Tell him, Jeremy,” said Tanner. Jeremy beamed. “This one,” he pointed to the smallest of the three, “it's a hundred and thirty-two pounds. This one,” he said pointing to the middle one, “is a hundred and ninety-four pounds.” Tanner was grinning from one side of his face to the other. “This one . . ,” said Jeremy. And then Tanner interrupted, “Drum roll, please.” Everyone laughed. There was tension in the crowd to find out the final number. This was a big tuna. Only a few a year were caught in these waters that had this kind of size to it. “Come on,” said Gaffer, “you're killing us.” Jeremy cut in. “OK, three hundred and forty-three pounds.” Gaffer's mouth dropped open. “Three hundred . . .,” he said before the rest trailed off. “Three hundred,” he repeated, without being able to finish it. The group milled around, congratulating the Wave Dancer crew. It seemed that everyone was speaking at the same time, animated, telling fish stories of the day. It was a festive time. Everyone had enjoyed their day of fishing and everyone had come home with a boat load of bounty. The tunas were lowered into a large dock cart and wheeled off to the cleaning table. Will Tanner made a deal with the assistant to the Dock Master that he would donate the smallest tuna and five dolphins to anyone who would clean up all the fish that had been caught, and bag up the filets. Within forty minutes a small runabout from Bimini with three professional fish cleaners on board was docking at the cleaning table. They had 144 fish to clean. The sun was at a steep angle to the horizon and it was beginning to get dark. They got busy right away. |
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