Mystery fish latches on for another legendary fight
Wading in salt water up to his waist, Wrong Willie cast his lure as far as he could. The plastic bait flew toward the empty gulf, splashed into the water's surface and sank. Willie gave the rod tip two quick twitches and began to reel.
Several yards to his right on that particularly warm February day, Doc also heaved a great cast toward the horizon and repeated the twitch/reel process.
At the far end and nearest the shore, Jerry Wayne bit the tag end of line off his re-tied lure. He glanced toward the shore and pitched his own offering toward the grassy shoreline, opposite the direction of Willie's and Doc's casts.
At the outer end of our wading line, I was a little deeper, nearly up to the top of my chest waders. I hadn't gotten a bump in so long I wondered if there were any fish left in Rockport.
"I don't care if we haven't caught anything in a while," Willie said, reading my mind. "I just love being out here. It beats being in the office."
Doc twitched and reeled. "You haven't been in the office much this month anyway. You're on pre-retirement time."
We've seen that phenomenon before, especially with Woodrow. Once the boys have established a retirement date, usually in early June, it becomes more difficult for them to drag themselves out of bed and into the office. In the final four to six months, some weeks seem to shrink down to three days in length.
"Doesn't matter," Willie said. "I was just looking forward to this fishing trip."
"Fish on!" Jerry Wayne shouted and set the hook. The lure shot out of the water as if fired from a cannon and whizzed past Doc's ear.
"Cast in the same direction as us!" Doc yelled. "That way when you miss, you won't hook one of us with your stupid lure."
Unfazed, Jerry Wayne reeled in his slack and cast back toward the shore.
Willie's rod bowed, and he leaned back to muscle the hook deeper into the fish's mouth. "Feels like a monster red!" he said.
His rod tip twitched twice then bent toward the horizon like a dowsing rod. Line stripped off the reel, and the drag gave that distinctive sound you only get with big fish in salt water.
The rest of us quickly reeled to get our lines out of his way in case the big red decided to swim sideways. Helpless, Willie held his rod high and watched the line strip off the reel.
"I haven't seen a fish take line like that in a long time," Doc said. "He's a horse!"
The line continued to peel off. "You might want to tighten up on your drag a little," Jerry Wayne said.
"Not while he's running," Willie argued. "I'm afraid I'll get it too tight and break the line."
I shaded my eyes and looked toward the gulf. "You know, the Intercoastal is out there. I caught a huge trout just off the drop once, and my guide, Brad Smythe, told me it could have been a shark the way it was pulling."
Willie blanched. Sharks terrify him. "No way could this be a shark."
"Don't count on it," Doc said. "Do you have a plan in case it is a shark?"
"Nope, because it's not going to matter anyway in about 10 seconds. I'm nearly out of line."
But just as it seemed Willie was going to lose the monster fish, it stopped. Willie cranked and gained line. "I think he's tired." Before anyone could answer, the line went slack. "Dang it. He broke off."
"Reel!" Doc shouted. "I think he turned and is heading back this way."
Willie frantically cranked his reel, gaining more and more line. "It just feels like he's gone."
During the encounter, we'd drifted closer to Willie. I watched him grasp the fishing line between his left thumb and forefinger in order to keep enough tension to reel. He cranked faster, and then the fish caught up with the slack and shot toward the shore.
The rod again bowed for a moment. "This has to be a red," Willie gasped. "It hasn't jumped at all. He's just got his head down to bull his way free."
"Sharks fight like that," I reminded him.
"I hear sharks attack sometimes when they're hooked," Jerry Wayne said, then started to wade slowly toward the shore. The line again went slack. "He's charging us!" Jerry Wayne shouted and hurried as fast as possible, followed by Doc.
"I don't think fish charge," I said, standing still just in case it really was a shark. I felt my legs and body might look like a dock piling. With Willie wiggling and walking while he reeled, he'd be a much more likely target.
"I saw a flash!" Willie shouted. "Holy cow! I think it is a shark, and it's attacking!"
"Keep reeling!" Doc shouted from his position in ankle deep water. "It's your only chance!"
As a bridge piling, I couldn't help Willie, but I could watch. Or try to, anyway.
I couldn't see the shark at all as it shot through the water toward us. At least he'll have all the line back on his reel when the shark gets here, I thought for some insane reason.
Just before the deadly creature reached Willie, it turned back toward deep water, and Willie yanked the rod. The line parted with a loud crack, and the threat was gone.
"I'm alive," Willie said, relieved and in wonder.
"Too bad we didn't get a good look at it," Doc said, returning to the water. "I bet it was four feet long from the way it was pulling."
"Probably five," Jerry Wayne said, staring toward the safety of dry land as if pondering the possibility of bank fishing.
"I'm just dang lucky to be alive," Willie told me, and we made fists and touched knuckles.
"Maybe it was a monster red," Jerry Wayne said. "If that's the truth, then you just lost a world record."
"Wait'll we tell everyone how big it was," I said.
And as the shark/redfish grew to six feet, another legend was born.
• Reavis Wortham's e-mail address is r.wortham@tx.rr.com.
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