KONA KAI
The wind continued to blow the tops off the waves and soak the two boys to their skins. Still the fish had not shown itself and Gaffer was getting a sinking feeling that this was going to be more than he had bargained for. Each time the boat stopped and the line became taut, he could tell that this big boy was not budging. The only time Gaffer was able to gain line was when the boat was outpacing the fish. Other than that he could not make the fish move. With all his strength he would lean back and try to make the rod tip come up, but that was not helping. He worried that if he pulled too hard he would break the line and never find out what he had been fighting.

When P.J. made a miscalculation and gave the throttle a boost at just the wrong time, Bimini Twist came off the top of a wave and into mid-air. It landed with a crash and was immediately jerked right back up by the next wave. Gaffer went tumbling to the deck. The rod crashed against the jump seat and Gaffer rolled over. He lay on the deck for a moment trying to
figure out how to stand back up with all this rigging attached to him. His elbow was injured and his knee was badly bruised. With the boat tossing back and forth he found it difficult to regain his feet, and the rod was now hindering his movements. When P.J. saw him go down and then struggle to get up with the rod in his way every time he tried to move, he stopped the boat and moved to the bow to see how he might help. The best Gaffer could do on his own was to roll over on his back and sit up. The rod was being pulled away and the line was dragging across the gunwale in a most precarious way. Gaffer saw this and became infuriated. The danger of being tossed around the boat, and the unrelenting waves, made his adrenaline rise. With P.J.'s help he regained his feet, holding the rod in his left hand and the frame of the-top in the other. He felt grateful that when he stood the fish was still hooked up.

"P.J., go back to the helm and run this fish down," Gaffer said angrily. "Whatever direction you see the line, follow it. We're out of time for fooling around."

P. J. returned to the helm and pointed the boat in the direction of the line. He sped up a bit, at least enough until he could see that Gaffer was reeling with ease. He continued on this course for another 150 yards which made Gaffer feel better seeing that the spool on the reel was filling up again. Just as he was feeling like he might get a reprieve and have the boat do the work, another serious tug came on the line. He was jerked forward and was only kept from vaulting overboard by the low edge of the gunwale just above his knees. The mighty fish had awakened again and was looking for a fight. P.J. did not see this happen so he did not adjust his speed accordingly. The fish tugged harder and harder until Gaffer was leaning against the gunwale with all his weight. He stiffened his back and raised the rod with all his might attempting to turn the fish. But his technique was no match for whatever that thing down there was. The fish gave a sudden burst of strength and there was nothing else Gaffer could do. He
was securely fastened in the fighting harness which was clipped to the sides of his reel. The tug was more than he could fight against and suddenly he found himself flying through the air and landing hard in the trough between two six foot waves. He had no life jacket on and the weight of the rod and reel took him five feet below the surface before he could comprehend what was happening to him. He sank through another five feet and was on his way to fifteen. The adrenaline was on full tilt as his thoughts became very clear and a last ditch, near panic plan formulated in his mind. The harness had slipped down and the rod dangled between his knees and pointed toward the endless depth. Gaffer reached down and caught the butt of the rod in his left hand and pulled himself toward it. This caused him to sink another couple of feet and as he approached the twenty foot mark, the pain in his ears was excruciating. He reached across with his right hand, found the locking lever on the side of the reel and pulled it back to free spool. In that one motion all of the downward pressure on him was released. As the fish swam down and away, Gaffer kicked for all he was worth. After agonizing moments his head broke through the surface and he gasped for air. He had to continue kicking hard just to keep his head above water. The extra weight of the rod and reel only made matters worse.

At first he could not see Bimini Twist. He looked around and was surrounded by high waves. After twenty seconds panic was about to set in when suddenly the boat chugged across the wave to his right side and came into view. P.J. throttled up and was along side his brother in an instant. There was not a moment to waste. He nearly ran his brother over as he pulled along side and went to neutral. He tossed a life line to Gaffer just to make certain that he was attached to the boat. He was not in yet, but he was a lot closer than he had been ninety seconds ago. The waves continued to toss the boat about and it was impossible to think about boarding with the rig still secured to his harness.

"P.J.," called Gaffer, "I'm gonna unhook the rod. I want you to first take it on board and put it in a rod holder. Then I want you to lock up the drag."

With waves bursting all around him and barely able to keep his head above the surface, Gaffer unsnapped the harness from both sides of the reel and handed the rod up to his brother. P.J. did exactly as he was told, and within a few seconds the rod was secure in one of the rod holders and the drag on the reel was locked-up.

Gaffer held onto the dock line and allowed himself to swing around to the stern of the boat. Fighting the waves and the rocking motion of the boat, he placed one foot on the cavitation plate of the port engine and, with all the strength he had left, pulled himself up onto the small swim platform. The waves continued to kick him and the small boat around, but Gaffer was not to be denied. He stepped over the transom and was now safely inside the cockpit.

P.J. also breathed a sigh of relief. Gaffer sat on the transom to catch his breath. He was wheezing from the sudden dip in the ocean and the salt water he had swallowed. But Gaffer was in excellent shape and it took him only a minute to recover. He looked over at the rod in the rod holder and remembered that there was still some kind of monster fish on the other end of the line. He became more resolute than ever before.

"What are you gonna do?" asked P.J.

Gaffer worked his way to the fresh water hose and began to rinse off. "I'm thinking," he said. "I haven't decided yet, but the first thing I want to do is towel off and get my bearings. I see we're still hooked up. What do you think about that?"

"For my money I'd cut the line and call it a day," said P.J. "I'd like to aim toward shore and get the heck out of here."

Gaffer nodded. "That's one possibility. That would probably be the smart thing to do. But, and that's a big but, the biggest fish this boat has ever hooked is still at the end of that line, and I would sure like to know more about it."

"It's your call," said P.J., "but I'd sure like to get out of here."

"You know," said Gaffer, "we could catch that thing within ten or fifteen minutes. All I have to do is cleat down the line and drag it until it drowns. It would be that simple."

P.J. was astonished. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. That's not you. That could be a shark that you so dearly love, or a marlin. What would you do if you killed a thousand pound marlin or a twenty year old tiger shark? I know how you feel about those things. And here's one, what if you accidentally foul hooked a passing baby whale? How would you feel if you killed one of those? You'd never get over it. I'd rather stay out here and have you catch it no matter how long it takes, even if we have to stay out here all night, than to have you do something like that."

Gaffer looked over at the rod and reel. It was not moving. The fish had steady pressure on the line and the spool was about half full.

"How long do you think it will take for that hook to rust out of the fish's mouth if I cut it loose?" he asked.

"I don't know anything about things like that. How long?"

"I heard about two weeks," said Gaffer. "But I'm not sure that's true. That hook is stainless. It'll probably take a month."

"What's your point?" asked P.J.

"The point is that whatever that thing is will have to swim around for a month with a hook hanging out of its mouth and trailing a thousand feet of line."

P.J. nodded and added, "It beats being dead, and it'll teach him a lesson not to go chasing bait until he's sure of what it is."

Gaffer laughed. "You're an idiot," he said. "On the other hand," he added, reaching down for the bait knife, "perhaps you're right. You know, in every fight somebody's got to win and somebody's got to lose. This time he wins and I lose." He drew the knife across the line and watched the bitter end slip under the waves.

P.J. shook his head. "This time everyone wins. That was a big thing to do and I know it wasn't easy."

Gaffer secured the rod in one of the overhead rod holders and returned to the helm. He placed the engine in forward and aimed toward shore. "I'm sure gonna sleep tonight."

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