chopped a piece off with Dad’s big fishingknife, then inched it onto the hook, taking care not to catch his fingers.
‘Good job!’ Dad said as he deftly baited his own hook and let the line on his fishing rod drop with a fizz.
Jake’s sinker made a bloop as it hit the water, and with it the white blob of bait dis appeared on its way to the ocean floor. His hands were cold as they gripped the rod, but he felt such exquisite anticipation, it didn’t matter. What would find his bait? Would he feel the sudden pull of a kahawai? Or the pecking of a mullet?
They sat without speaking, with the lap of water at the bottom of the dinghy the only sound. Jake closed his eyes and listened to the wind singing in his ears. He wished he’d worn a hat. Suddenly his rod jumped in his hand. He snapped his eyes open. ‘A bite!’ he said.
‘Me too,’ said his father, grinning. ‘Here we go.’
Jake imagined the school of fish swarming around their lines, diving at the bait.
‘I think mine’s gone,’ said Dad, and started winding in his rod. Jake was about to do the same when he felt another almighty tug, then his rod was dancing in his hands. He gripped it lightly as the end of it bent over almost double. His heart started to beat faster and he let out a small shout. Dad put his own rod down and reached for Jake’s.
‘No!’ Jake cried. ‘Let me! I’ve got it.’
His dad smiled and sat back to watch, poised on his seat to jump in if he was needed.
Jake wound the reel, with some difficulty. Instead of the fast action when the rod was empty, his wrist moved in jerks. And all the time the fish at the other end fought.
‘It must be huge!’ shouted Jake, excitement making him loud.
‘Maybe it’s a kingfish,’ said Dad. ‘Keep going, buddy! You’re doing a great job.’
Finally, when Jake thought his aching wrist might fall off, he caught a flash of silver in the dull water. The fish was darting here and there,trying to take the line with it, but Jake had it. He lifted it out of the water and it danced like a whirling dervish on the hook.
‘Oh, it’s not as big as I thought,’ he said. He watched the fish thumping around on the bottom of the boat and let his dad catch it and stand on it while he worked the hook out of its jaws.
‘Those kahawai,’ said his dad, ‘they have a ton of fight in them. They always feel bigger than they are. But look at it, Jake! It’s a decent size all right — enough for dinner tonight.’
Jake smiled. ‘We’d better catch some more, just in case.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ Dad took the knife and sliced the fish’s gullet. Dark blood spurted out and he held the kahawai over the edge of the boat, letting the blood drip into the water. It formed drops on the surface, then blurred and blended with the sea. Jake had forgotten about this part. When he was younger he’d had to look away, but you had to bleed the fishas soon as you caught it or the meat wouldn’t taste good.
They re-baited their hooks and dropped their lines. Almost immediately Dad brought up another, and then another, while Jake mostly brought up an empty hook to be baited again. He caught another kahawai, but it was too small so they threw it back. He watched it dance back down through the murk to the bottom. He wondered if it would tell its friends to stop eating the free food — that there were consequences!
‘This wind’s come up,’ said his dad. Jake felt it tossing his hair around, and the boat started rocking. He looked out to where the wind was coming from and saw only a wall of mist, advancing towards them across the sea.
‘Dad.’ He pointed. His father turned and Jake saw a look of alarm cross his face. Within seconds, the mist was upon them, swirling in the breeze. Waves began to grow beside them. ‘Pull in your line,’ said Dad. ‘Right now.’
Jake silently did as he was told, and placed the rod in the bottom of the boat.
‘Grab the anchor.’ Dad was on his feet, crouched low,
‘Good job!’ Dad said as he deftly baited his own hook and let the line on his fishing rod drop with a fizz.
Jake’s sinker made a bloop as it hit the water, and with it the white blob of bait dis appeared on its way to the ocean floor. His hands were cold as they gripped the rod, but he felt such exquisite anticipation, it didn’t matter. What would find his bait? Would he feel the sudden pull of a kahawai? Or the pecking of a mullet?
They sat without speaking, with the lap of water at the bottom of the dinghy the only sound. Jake closed his eyes and listened to the wind singing in his ears. He wished he’d worn a hat. Suddenly his rod jumped in his hand. He snapped his eyes open. ‘A bite!’ he said.
‘Me too,’ said his father, grinning. ‘Here we go.’
Jake imagined the school of fish swarming around their lines, diving at the bait.
‘I think mine’s gone,’ said Dad, and started winding in his rod. Jake was about to do the same when he felt another almighty tug, then his rod was dancing in his hands. He gripped it lightly as the end of it bent over almost double. His heart started to beat faster and he let out a small shout. Dad put his own rod down and reached for Jake’s.
‘No!’ Jake cried. ‘Let me! I’ve got it.’
His dad smiled and sat back to watch, poised on his seat to jump in if he was needed.
Jake wound the reel, with some difficulty. Instead of the fast action when the rod was empty, his wrist moved in jerks. And all the time the fish at the other end fought.
‘It must be huge!’ shouted Jake, excitement making him loud.
‘Maybe it’s a kingfish,’ said Dad. ‘Keep going, buddy! You’re doing a great job.’
Finally, when Jake thought his aching wrist might fall off, he caught a flash of silver in the dull water. The fish was darting here and there,trying to take the line with it, but Jake had it. He lifted it out of the water and it danced like a whirling dervish on the hook.
‘Oh, it’s not as big as I thought,’ he said. He watched the fish thumping around on the bottom of the boat and let his dad catch it and stand on it while he worked the hook out of its jaws.
‘Those kahawai,’ said his dad, ‘they have a ton of fight in them. They always feel bigger than they are. But look at it, Jake! It’s a decent size all right — enough for dinner tonight.’
Jake smiled. ‘We’d better catch some more, just in case.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ Dad took the knife and sliced the fish’s gullet. Dark blood spurted out and he held the kahawai over the edge of the boat, letting the blood drip into the water. It formed drops on the surface, then blurred and blended with the sea. Jake had forgotten about this part. When he was younger he’d had to look away, but you had to bleed the fishas soon as you caught it or the meat wouldn’t taste good.
They re-baited their hooks and dropped their lines. Almost immediately Dad brought up another, and then another, while Jake mostly brought up an empty hook to be baited again. He caught another kahawai, but it was too small so they threw it back. He watched it dance back down through the murk to the bottom. He wondered if it would tell its friends to stop eating the free food — that there were consequences!
‘This wind’s come up,’ said his dad. Jake felt it tossing his hair around, and the boat started rocking. He looked out to where the wind was coming from and saw only a wall of mist, advancing towards them across the sea.
‘Dad.’ He pointed. His father turned and Jake saw a look of alarm cross his face. Within seconds, the mist was upon them, swirling in the breeze. Waves began to grow beside them. ‘Pull in your line,’ said Dad. ‘Right now.’
Jake silently did as he was told, and placed the rod in the bottom of the boat.
‘Grab the anchor.’ Dad was on his feet, crouched low,
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