Back Waters, page 14
The smell of coffee and biscuits woke Rick from a dream. He had been dreaming that he was playing poker at a casino and was about to win the hand when Bruce Willis turned over four kings and a ten and swiped the chips toward himself. Rick was glad it was a dream as he had just gone all in. He rubbed Jules’s hair, kissed her head, and softly snuck out of the bed to join Possum for some quick coffee and a meeting to go over the day’s plans.
Jules joined them shortly after, yawning and gripping her coffee cup like a precious treasure find. The sun had just peeked over the dunes as Possum called them over to the table for some biscuits and gravy. Carson joined them, but Johnie had decided to stay on the boat and do some routine maintenance. He planned to change the oil and all the fuel filters. He texted Rick that the afternoon charter had been canceled due to some sick family members.
“Carson, you wanna take that fishing trip I promised you? We have an opening this afternoon,” said Rick.
“Hell yeah! What time?”
“I’ll call Johnie, but we can leave a little earlier than normal afternoon trips if you’d like more time. We can try to spot some near-shore cobia first, then head out to the drop.”
“Count me in. I just need to get some fishing attire. All I got is the suits I brought. Where should I go?”
“I’ll take you. I have some discounts at Bealls and we can swing by Bass Pro after. They have a cool indoor saltwater tank you gotta see,” piped up Possum.
“Jules, you wanna go fishing?” asked Rick.
“Does a deer shit in the woods?” replied Jules.
“It’s a bear.”
“What’s a bear?”
“Never mind, haha. I’ll take that as a yes.”
Rick called Johnie and told him he’d swing by after breakfast to help him out with the boat and get supplies for the afternoon trip with Carson. For a change, Rick would captain Nine-Tenths.
Nine-Tenths backed out of the slip just before three. An electric energy filled the boat as Rick steered it around the end of Noriega Point. The sky was a light blue with very few clouds. A new moon could be seen, and baitfish danced on the water. The day seemed like some kind of postcard turned into real life. Rick was hoping to get into some big fish for Carson. Being behind the helm of the mighty sport fisher made Rick feel alive. Johnie and Possum were busy setting lines and prepping the ballyhoo rigs.
Rick gave Jules the image-stabilizing binoculars and explained to her what to look for when trying to spot a cobia. Sight casting could either be one of the most exciting days or the most boring event a person could experience. Johnie had already rigged up two spinning rods and reels with two-ounce yellow bucktail jigs.
“Look, Rick!” yelled Jules as she pointed.
Rick took the binoculars and looked and spotted what Jules was hollering about. A huge manta ray was making its way down the coast. Rick looked behind the ray and spotted what he was hoping for—three cobia in tow. He yelled down to Johnie to get Carson ready. Rick motored toward the cobia then turned the boat to be parallel with them. Johnie instructed Carson how to cast in front of them and cross their path. He cast and began to reel. Within a few seconds, his rod bent over and his reel whizzed.
“Fish on!” yelled Johnie.
Rick threw Nine-Tenths into neutral, set the SeaStar Optimus 360 auto-helm system, and climbed down to the deck to join in on the fun. Jules was filming with her iPhone from the flybridge. Possum launched the Mavic Mini drone and flew over the fish as it jumped. Carson grinned from ear to ear as the mighty fish thrashed on the surface repeatedly, trying to throw the hook. Within a few minutes, Carson dragged the fish to the boat, and Johnie cast over his shoulder at the sight of another even bigger one. Rick gaffed the cobia and pulled it in as Johnie set the hook and handed the second rod to Carson. The second cobia was nearly twice as large as the first, and Carson struggled to maintain control. He’d gain a little ground then the big fish would make a huge run, nearly pulling all the line off of the reel. Possum was getting some amazing footage of the catch from the drone.
“Woohoo!” yelled Carson.
Sweat was rolling off of his forehead and his face was red. After twenty minutes, the fish was almost to the side of the boat. It gave one more futile attempt to escape, and Johnie gaffed it as it passed beside the hull. He pulled it in, and Carson nearly fell down when it hit the deck. His arms felt like spaghetti and he collapsed in the fighting chair, trying to catch his breath.
“Oh my God, that was fun! I had no idea it could be this amazing,” exclaimed Carson, still out of breath.
“That’s a lot of fun, but if we get into a big tuna or marlin on the drop, you will truly know what a fight is about,” said Rick.
“Can I catch my breath first?” asked Carson.
“Nope, time to take pics,” replied Johnie.
He helped Johnie get the fish into position after Possum landed the drone. Possum pulled out his Canon 80D and took several photos to memorialize Carson’s first big catch. Rick climbed back up to the flybridge and pointed Nine-Tenths south, then brought it up to plane, bound for the big drop. The boat seemed to glide like a bird on the small swells, and the engines roared as they continued to the deeper, darker water offshore. The first stop was Whitehill Reef, about six miles due south of the east pass in about eighty feet of water. With any luck, they could get into some amberjack, grouper, or snapper and maybe tag a mahi mahi on the way out. Regardless of what they caught, Rick was gonna make sure Carson got the fishing trip of his life.
Rick spotted some birds and bait moving to the port of Nine-Tenths, got Johnie’s attention, and steered the boat in that direction. Once the boat got closer to the schooling fish, Rick slowed them down to a perfect trolling speed of six knots. He tracked the boat directly through the school of baitfish with four rods on the stern. Within seconds, two reels sizzled. Two bull mahi mahi leapt into the air simultaneously. Johnie handed Carson the port rod, and he took the one on the starboard side. Rick set the autopilot then he and Jules reeled in the two other rigs to get them out of the way.
The beautiful bull dolphins, as they were known by locals, jumped high in the air, spinning and shaking their heads to dislodge the hooks from their mouths. Their silver and blue scales glistened in the afternoon sun. Johnie got his in first, and Rick gaffed it and threw it onto the deck. Its silver and blue colors faded to a soft grey as the fish also faded away. Rick tossed it into the cooler as Carson continued to fight the larger one. It took him around fifteen minutes to get the fish to the side of the boat. Johnie gaffed it and pulled it in, and hung it on the scale.
“Seventy-one pounds, eight ounces. Damn, homie, nice one!” yelped Johnie.
Possum took some photos with Carson holding his catch. He couldn’t stop smiling, and it made Rick smile as well. They did a few more passes then began to head out to the famed hundred-fathom curve. Johnie set the bigger rods with bright green and yellow skirts and ballyhoo rigs. The rigs worked well with both marlin and tuna. Rick set the GPS parallel with the reef and trolled at a little under seven knots. Johnie passed out bottles of water to everyone to stay hydrated. Carson was still recovering from his last catch and his arms were sore.
“You ready to catch a big one, Carson?” asked Johnie.
“A big one? That last one wasn’t big enough?”
“You ain’t seen nothing, son. There’s some big fish out here. A few years back, Tommy Browning caught the Florida state record blue marlin not too far from here.”
“How big?”
“I believe it was 1,046 pounds. Still the record.”
“Dayum!” exclaimed Carson.
Rick continued to troll back and forth, scanning the water for any signs of fish. A tick came on the starboard side reel. Everyone spun around to look at it. It was just one tick.
Sometimes the rigs would hit a patch of sargassum seaweed, which would cause the reels to tick. Nothing happened for a minute or so, then another tick. Johnie led Carson to the fighting chair and strapped him in.
“I’ve got a gut feeling,” said Johnie.
The reel ticked again, then again, and then it began to sizzle. Johnie passed the rod to Carson and set the drag.
“Wait for it,” said Johnie.
He held one finger up in the air, watching the line run from the reel.
“Now!”
Carson pulled hard on the rod, and it bent over as more line flew off of the reel. Rick put the boat in neutral and spun around to watch. They all looked out over the water, waiting for the big jump. The great fish was running just below the surface away from the boat, then turned and leapt into the air, spinning its massive body. A collective gasp filled the air.
“Oh my God,” said Rick.
“Exactly,” repeated Johnie.
It was a massive blue marlin. The sun was still above the horizon and sunset was still over an hour away. Every time Carson gained ground on the big fish, it would take out all the line reeled in and sometimes more.
Two hours into the fight, the fish still wasn’t any closer to the boat. Carson’s arms were spent, but he refused to give up. Rick turned on the spotlights on the flybridge. Another hour went by and Carson had made some progress. The fish seemed to be tiring. Johnie rubbed Tiger Balm on Carson’s arms and poured a bucket of water over his head. It refreshed him and he fought harder. Possum took the handheld spotlight and kept it on the fish as best he could.
Three hours and twenty minutes into the fight, the fish was close to the boat. Possum filmed as much as he could with his Canon 80D, and tried to stay out of the way. The massive marlin spun and drove straight toward the port and turned. Johnie leaned over the rail and jammed the gaff into the fish’s side. Rick held him and kept him from going overboard. Possum wrapped a stainless cable around the marlin’s bill, and the three men pulled with all their might. The giant fish thrashed on the boat, and Johnie got slashed on the shoulder by its bill. They grabbed on and pulled, and the fish flopped on the deck. It was so big it didn’t fully fit inside. Its tail hung way over the stern, and the fish was lying on the deck, no longer moving. Carson collapsed in the fighting chair. His arms lay by his sides. He was completely spent but still grinning from ear to ear.
Jules cleaned up Johnie’s shoulder gash and put some steri-strips on it to stop the bleeding. He probably needed stitches but would assess that back at the slip.
“We’re gonna weigh this puppy back at HarborWalk. You may have a record here, Carson,” said Rick.
“I can’t believe we got it.” Carson grinned. “I had no idea fishing could be like this. Thank you so much, Rick.”
“I should be thanking you; this fish is gonna really increase my business!”
Jules pulled out a big bottle of Moët and Chandon Impérial Brut Champagne, and poured it over Carson’s head. She handed him the bottle and he shook it up, spraying it everywhere, and took a huge chug. She opened two more bottles, and they all began to drink and spray each other. Rick got on the radio.
“HarborWalk Dockmaster, this is Nine-Tenths. Are you receiving?”
“Go ahead, Nine-Tenths. This is Bruce, dockmaster.”
“Can you proceed to channel twenty-three, Bruce?”
“Channel twenty-three, go ahead.”
“Bruce, this is Rick Waters on Nine-Tenths. We have landed a possible record-size blue marlin. Can you let the press know and set up the big scale behind my slip? This will be a great boost for our tourism.”
“What’s your ETA?”
“We are at the hundred-fathom curve; we can be in the channel in about forty minutes.”
“Ten-four, we’ll have it all ready. Back to sixteen.”
“Back to sixteen,” replied Rick. To the others, he yelled, “Let’s go, y’all. Time to hit the scales!”
Rick pushed the throttle forward, and the big yacht lifted up then planed out, bound for
Destin HarborWalk.
Chapter Fifteen
A large crowd had gathered beside AJ’s as Rick backed Nine-Tenths down into the slip. Cameras were flashing, and oohs and ahhs could be heard as people got glimpses of the mighty fish lying across the deck of the boat. Johnie was prepared for the onslaught and had a pocket full of business cards.
“How’s your shoulder holding up?” asked Rick.
“It’s hurting a little, but Jules did such a good job of cleaning and bandaging it, I’m gonna skip the walk-in clinic. I’ll have her put on new bandages after I’ve met with the potential customers.”
He popped a few Advils to take off the edge.
Once the boat was tied off, several men helped the crew pull the fish to the dock. They tied it up to the huge scale that had been placed behind Rick’s slip. A reporter from the Northwest Florida Daily News and his cameraman were waiting to interview Carson about his catch. The Florida state record was 1,046 pounds. Two men began to pull the fish up on the scale. It bounced above 1,046 to 1,100 then came back down, settling at 1,031 pounds, just shy of the state record, but the second-largest catch ever brought into Destin HarborWalk. If this had been the Emerald Coast Blue Marlin Classic Tournament held in October, Carson would have won hands down. The largest fish ever taken in that tournament was 889.6 pounds. The catch put Carson and Nine-Tenths into some impressive company, as they joined the group for the top one hundred fish ever caught in offshore history.
“Congrats, Carson,” said Rick as he put his arm around Carson to take some photos for local magazines and newspapers.
This catch would put the boat and crew into Destin’s Who’s Who. Emerald Coast Magazine had the entire crew gather around the fish behind the stern and pose for a cover photo.
The celebration continued for well over an hour, and then Johnie and Possum began the process of filleting the smaller fish, while Rick made arrangements to get the marlin over to Sexton’s Seafood Market and get it on ice. Big blues like this were rarely eaten, although sometimes the meat was smoked. Rick planned to donate the fish to the Florida State University. They would study the striations in the meat. Big pelagic fish like this were often studied by the Biological Oceanography program to help identify the migration of the species. The weight along with measurements would be given to the International Game Fish Association and recorded in the database. Carson and the crew would receive an award as the top one hundred all-time big gamefish. Rick requested five pounds of the cleanest meat so he could smoke it. He hated killing anything and not eating it. He was so good at seasoning and smoking that he could’ve made shoe leather taste good. It would be his homage to the great fish.
“Are you gonna get a mount of the fish, Carson?” asked Rick.
“I don’t know. How much does that cost?”
“Ask Johnie. He knows all about that stuff.”
Once the boat was all cleaned, the entire crew, except for Johnie, headed back to the condo. Everyone was tired and planned an early night to sleep. After everyone had showered and changed, Rick ordered some pizzas from Merlin’s, and they all enjoyed it and a few beers over at his unit. Carson thanked Rick again and headed off to bed.
“He’s gonna be sore tomorrow,” said Rick.
“Yeah, his arms were shaking toward the end. He did a hell of a job, though,” replied Possum.
The sun was just above the water and Possum was on the balcony with a cup of coffee, admiring the orange and red colors in the sky. Rick poured a cup just as Jules walked out imitating a mummy, her arms extended in front of her.
“Cawwwwwffyyyyy!” she moaned.
Rick gave her a cup and texted Carson and Johnie to see if they wanted to join them for breakfast. Johnie had work to do on the boat, but Carson said he’d tag along.
After the amazing pancake breakfast, Carson asked where he could get a massage. His arms were sore and he wanted to nip it in the bud. Rick gave him a number from his phone of a place he went to in Sandestin sometimes. Carson made an appointment for 1:00 p.m. and they all returned to the condo.
“Jules, you ready to play 007 again?”
“I sure am, Rick.”
“Can you get ahold of Pamela and see if she wants to get together at her place? Tell her you have a bid for her house cleaning, and we can make up something on the computer.”
“Okay, Rick, I’ll call her.”
She disappeared into the bedroom then came back.
“She wants me to stop by around six. She’s having a few friends over for dinner as a remembrance of her late husband and was planning on asking me to join anyway. She has a date, which I thought was in poor taste, but she said I could bring a friend if I wanted to. I don’t wanna go alone.”
“Maybe Carson can be your date. He’s old enough to be your father, though. Wait, let me see what time Gary is landing. He would do it.”
Rick texted Gary and he said he’d be in around 4:45 p.m. Rick explained the plans for later and he was all in.
“I was thinking a lot about what you said about her wanting to move to a warmer place,” Rick said to Jules. “We haven’t seen any air reservations or received any texts or messages on the bugs regarding an imminent trip. Can you get into her office and see if you can find anything that’ll give us a heads-up to what she has planned?”
“I’ll do the best I can, Rick. That I promise.”
Gary arrived at Rick’s condo and opened the door without knocking.
“Hey, y’all, I’m here. Do I have a story for you!” said Gary.
“Hi, Gary. You must be popular. Five minutes ago, someone dropped off this envelope for you.”
Rick handed Gary the large manila envelope, and he ripped it open and dumped the contents onto the table.
“This is part of the story,” said Gary.
“I’m all ears,” said Rick.
“Me too,” added Jules.
There was a knock on the door, and Johnie peeked in and Carson was behind him.
