Shark Tale

Daylight trickled in over John’s face, gently prying open his eyes. He kind of wished the window had a roller shade to block out all the light; but today, being woken up didn’t bother him, because he couldn’t wait to get up. The exhilaration of being on vacation almost made him jump out of bed.

Sometimes he and his dad would get up while it was still dark to watch the sunrise. On the east coast the sun rises over the ocean. It starts as a tiny crescent peeking over the sea, quivering like a scared hamster. It continues to creep up, hovering on the horizon like an alien jellyfish. Within minutes the largest star in the Milky Way galaxy forms into a burning reddish-orange ball, sweating all over. Each ocean sunrise made John feel like he was witnessing the dawn of time. Experiences like that, he could never forget.

“You ready, son?” John’s dad, Steve, called out from the other bedroom.

“Yeah, Dad.” John answered, pulling on his green deep-pocketed shorts, and tugging his shirt over him. He gave his teeth a quick brush and tried to tame his hair with a splash of water and comb.

When they went fishing, it was always a trip to the donut shop in town. When donuts are homemade, they’re not flimsy, tasteless air, that the chain donut shops serve; these donuts were a real meal, rich and delicious, almost like European thick bread. They filled him up halfway to lunch.

He and his dad arrived outside the donut shop. There was already a line. You know a place is good if there’s a line at 6:00 a.m. Up at the counter John didn’t need to look at the menu.

“One chocolate glaze, please.” John said, smiling.

“And I’ll have an old fashion, thank you.” His dad added.

They took their donuts to-go and headed to the beach with an orange juice for John and a coffee for his dad.

Father and son passed the small shops with white and blue awnings that sold burgers, boogie boards, swimsuits, fishing equipment, shirts and other tourist items. Except for the tackle shop and bakery, the other shops were still closed.

“Why do grownups love coffee so much?” John asked. “It smells and tastes terrible,” he said, scrunching his face as if tasting the dark liquid.

“Ha. Good question son. Not all coffee is created equal. They grow coffee beans from Ethiopia to Columbia and each region has a slightly different bean variety, flavor and method of making coffee. I only drink the good stuff. But to answer your question, I’d say my cup of joe starts off my day on a better note.” His dad tried to explain to John, somewhat unconvincingly.

Steve wasn’t one to be idle like other parents he knew. If his dad didn’t have a project, he was thinking about one. “The harder I work, the more luck I seem to have.” He liked to quote Thomas Jefferson. And the two of them had built a bunch of fun things together: tree house, skate ramp, even little robots. They both loved to create something with their own hands.

He and his dad slipped off their flip-flops to feel the soft, clean, cool early morning sand on their bare feet. John loved watching the morning trash collecting machines sift through the sand to pick up the previous day’s cups, bottles, cans, straws, gum wrappers, and other paper and plastic products left on the beach. After the machine combed through, it left the sand so smooth and soft like melting ice cream everywhere under his bare heals and toes.

“You think we’ll catch anything today, Dad?” John wondered aloud, breaking the silence.

“You bet we will, maybe it’ll be blue fish and cod.” His dad said, optimistically.

“Or a shark.” John replied with a smile.

“Well sharks are tough to snag and reel in, but maybe. . .” His dad answered, stroking his chin with his hand, mulling over the possibility.

“What time is the boat?” John eagerly asked.

“We meet the captain at 7:30 a.m. when the tide is going out. We’re gonna catch a big one today!” His dad stated, now more enthusiastic about their prospects.

They both had a good feeling about the day. John always hoped every day would be awesome; however, at 11 years old, he had figured out that some days were better than others. There seemed to be particular days when everything lined up, like a pattern of good luck. He could almost always sense the more promising days. Not like a Jedi or yogi, meditating on another level, but certainly a special sense, which he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Maybe today was one of those great days.

“We’re headed to international waters my boy! Deep-sea fishing.” His dad said, with a big grin, patting the top of John’s baseball hat.

“How far?” John wanted to know.

“About 30 to 40 miles out, give or take a few.” His dad replied, rubbing his hands, as if a fortuitous battle lay ahead.

Father and son headed back to the house stopping at the bakery on the way. Steve made salami sandwiches for their lunch and packed a few waters, sodas, and beers in the cooler. Fresh bread and salami, always made John’s mouth water. Was it lunch time yet?

John grabbed his floppy, blue fishing hat and stuffed a few granola bars in his pockets for midday snacks.

“Top of the morning,” Captain Jim Bootmeister yelled to John and his dad, as they approached the dock.

“What are we catching today?” Jim asked John, with a warm grin.

“Maybe an octopus!” John said, returning the grin.

John liked Jim. He was new to them. The boat captain that normally took them out on the ocean was on vacation scuba diving with his wife in the Caribbean.

Captain Bootmeister puttered the boat out of the harbor until the no wake zone ended and he accelerated into the open sea at about 25 knots. John ran up to the bow, took his hat off, and tilted his nose up inhaling the salty sea air. The wind rush over his face, blowing back his short, brown hair. He’d never been skydiving or ridden a motorcycle before, but John imagined the feeling was almost the same. Fresh wind and freedom.

John reached into his pocket for the first of three granola bars. His dad came up and sat next to him.

“Wanna piece?” John said, offering a chunk of the bar to his dad.

“I think I’m still full from breakfast, thanks buddy.” His dad politely declined.

The boat bounced on waves gently cutting through them. Even though John wasn’t afraid to tell his dad anything, sometimes they would just sit in silence, happy to be together on the water.

At Steve’s request, Jim had installed a tank about four by two feet to keep the fish they caught fresh or use as bate for bigger fish.

John grabbed his pole and attached a small sardine to his hook for bate. When he started out fishing in creeks and ponds as a kid, he always used a worm as bate. In the ocean, they never used worms.

Right away, John got a tug.

“I got one, dad!”

“That was fast. Reel ‘er in.” He said encouragingly, surprised and proud of his son.

John pulled up a foot-long Winter Flounder. Flounders always looked like they were upside-down, no matter which way you faced them. Jim opened up the fish’s mouth, pulled the hook out and threw the Flounder in the tank.

“We might need two tanks today, Jim.” Steve chided the captain and gave him a friendly wink.

The sun started getting hot despite the cool breeze off the water.

John and his dad pulled up a few Bluefish ranging in length from about 8 to 17 inches. Into the tank the fish went.

His stomach started grumbling, even though he had already consumed two of his granola bars.

As if reading his mind, Steve looked at him and said, “Lunch time?”

They opened the red and white cooler that was stationed next to the tank holding their morning catches.

The captain brought a sandwich as well, and the men each cracked beers, while John grabbed an orange soda— the next best thing to a beer at 11 years old.

The captain always seemed to have a good story prepared for them. Jim chuckled as he told them about a couple from New Hampshire who hired him last month for a deep-sea outing. The man was so excited to show off his fishing skills, new rod, lures, jacket, hat, and fancy sunglasses, that he forgot his new bride was prone to seasickness. It was a choppy day, and by the time they got their lines in the water, his wife was bent over the hull losing her breakfast. Jim recalled that the man was so upset, since they had to return when his wife got sick, he wasn’t sure they were still married. Even if she didn’t mean to be sick of course.

“Some people can’t take the rock of a boat.” The captain laughed. “Never bothered me none.”

His eyes twinkled over his sun wrinkled face. A handsome but weathered man, who spent most of his life at sea.

“You got kids?” Steve asked Jim, uncertain if it was too personal a question.

“Me? Nah, never could find the right sea woman.” Jim laughed with a dry distance that made John wonder if the captain ever considered having a wife or children. His life revolved around the ocean; therefore, she would have to be a special woman who loved the water just as much as Jim.

“What’s that for?” John asked his dad, as Steve handed him a 6-foot fast action rod.

“Sharks, of course.” His dad said, looking him straight in the eye, which John knew meant he was serious. “All about the reel my friend.” His dad added.

A good reel has a strong fishing line and a locking mechanism that won’t slip with heavy fish.

Did his dad really think he could catch a shark today? John knew it felt like a good day, but catching sharks. . .

Jim plucked out a few small blue fish from the tank. He chopped off the fish’s head, sliced out an 8-inch fillet and crammed it onto the hook with about a half pound of squid. Was that going to be the bate?

“Ham and eggs, John.” The captain leaned over with his hands on his knees, smiling his yellowish teeth at John.

“Doesn’t look like ham or eggs.” John commented, a little grossed out.

Splash! Into the cool, blue water their lines went.

“I’m catching a whale today, John.” His dad nudged him with his shoulder.

That would be cool, John thought.

The sea became quieter than before. Jim looked concerned, or as much expression as could be perceived from his rugged face.

“Weather is changing, Steve.” The captain calmly said. “We might only have another hour unless the storm clouds blow east.” He continued.

A rather large grey thunder cloud towered off in the distance; otherwise, it was mostly blue sky, with a handful of puffy, white cumulous.

If John’s dad began to worry, he didn’t show it.

Just then, John’s pole gave a tug.

“Hold tight son.” He heard his dad say.

He’d caught nine fish today, but this one didn’t feel like the others.

“Keep the tip of the rod up, and tension on the line.” His dad reminded him.

John tried to reel and pull, reel and pull. Spinning and tugging, but this fish, felt like it was 60 pounds or more. It was like lifting up his dad’s exercise weights in the garage. How was he going to reel this big sea creature in?

“Dad, maybe you should help?” John said, hesitantly.

When he was 7-years-old, his dad would always help reel in the fish, but now John wanted to prove he could do it himself.

As he pulled on the rod, his arm muscles started to strain. His face grew a reddish color and beads of sweat streamed down under his hat along his cheeks. What was this, a giant tuna, a whale, an old tire?

Before his dad could reach over to assist John, he had gotten a bite too. Steve strained under the weight. His shoulder started to burn. The doctor had told his dad, not to put too much pressure on his left shoulder after the surgery on his rotary cup. His dad was strong, lifted weights a lot, but recovering from surgery took months.

They both struggled with their rods now, but John was making progress. His fish jumped up above the dark green water. A huge Bluefish, maybe three or four feet, he wasn’t sure exactly. John loved it when the fish flew out of the water, as the fishermen called “breaching the surface”, fluttering in the air as if trying to fly.

“That’s a big one you got there, John,” Jim yelled, from the bow.

John’s dad was still struggling with his catch, but he smiled when he saw John’s fish.

“Bring him on in John, you can do it.” His dad encouraged him, in between grunts, fighting his own line.

What did his dad have hooked?

John’s fish was close, not more than fifteen feet from the boat.

His rod was bowing like an inverted U.

“I hope the rod doesn’t snap,” John whispered to himself.

And just as he imagined what would happen if the rod broke, his line snapped. The fish got away.

He was relieved, cause his arms were burning with fatigue, but he felt disappointed he didn’t bring in such a grand fish. His dad’s face was red with heat and exhaustion.

“What did your line break, John? Darn! Quick take hold my rod,” his dad instructed.

What? No. That fish was a beast.

“Dad, I think I better watch.” John countered, a little unsure.

“Come John, take hold!” His dad firmly commanded.

John grabbed the rod, his feet sliding along the floor about two feet as he grabbed the pole’s handle with both his hands, leaning back while his dad placed the harness around his body. This fish might pull him out of the boat.

John’s dad rubbed his shoulder. Seeking relief, he lumbered over to the cooler to grab an ice pack to put on his shoulder.

“That’s the way, John! Don’t let him go.” Steve yelled.

John had already lost one fish, how empty would he feel if this one got away too? And that storm cloud was approaching closer. Every now and then, the captain would glance up at the storm then at his watch.

John slid closer to the edge of the boat. He really might flip right over. John could swim adeptly in a pool, but in the vast ocean he wasn’t so sure. Sweat streamed down his face. John thought, maybe the line will break for this fish too. Or maybe the colossal fish would jump into the boat and save him all this trouble.

John felt a strong hand on his shoulder. His dad grasped the rod with John.

“Let’s see what we got.” Steve said, with a glance at his son then back at the ocean.

Together, they pulled hard walking back from the hull. Out jumped a huge fish.

“What was that?” John asked excitedly, his eyes as wide as cartoon drawings.

“It’s a shark for sure.” The captain called out, his hands firmly on the bow.

“Hard to tell what kind.” Jim added, his eyes searching the surface for more clues.

“We’re close John, pull!” Steve urged him. They did. Pull, reel, pull, reel.

I could start the boat and drive for a bit to tire him out? The captain offered.

But the shark was close.

“We got him now, Jim!” Steve shouted.

Captain Bootmeister hurried over to the side of the boat to grab a harpoon.

Woosh, splash. The first throw didn’t make it. Jim hauled the harpoon back by the rope.

There was no way for John and his dad to hold the shark steady. Jim would have to make a precise shot.

“I’ll get him on the next flash around the surface.” Jim said, loudly.

Woosh, thunk. The captain scored a direct hit to the lower back of the shark. It flailed even harder. Shaking voraciously like a hound dog that caught a squirrel or rabbit. Jim already had a second harpoon in his hand.

Woosh, thunk the second one stuck into the shark by his gills. John could see some red blood spill into the ocean water.

“Grab the first rope, John.” Jim yelled out.

“We gotta get him around the back, too heavy to try to lift out. We don’t have a crane.” Jim directed above the wind that had picked up from the distant storm.

John hurried over to the first harpoon rope and started to pull.

The shark took back some of their gains.

They heaved on the ropes.

Now they had their large carnivore at the stern of the boat. Steve ran to the little backdoor not more than two feet wide. He fiddled with the latch and opened it. Water spilled onto the deck.

The shark was within a few feet of the boat. Thrashing about as hard as it could. John could see it was longer than 8 feet and probably weighed more than 300 pounds. All three of them pulled, John’s dad on the pole, John and Jim on the harpoon ropes.

“When he slides in, onto the deck, you better RUN to the cabin!” The Jim instructed. “We’ll be right behind you”.

BANG! BANG! The shark hit the frame of the back door. They pulled the harpoon ropes.

Sweeeeesh, the shark slid onto the deck. John froze for a second as the reality of this giant animal only a few feet from him still very much alive thumped and crashed on the deck. He jumped back, gripping the sides of the boat. The shark lunged for John’s leg, for anything, ferociously snapping like a barking dog. Its tremendous jaws filled with three rows and hundreds of teeth chomped on a buoy, ripping out a chunk of Styrofoam. Its mouth came within six inches of John’s leg.

John was supposed to run to the cabin, but the shark blocked the path. Snapping and wiggling all over like an enormous worm. It took up most of the deck.

CHOMP!

CRASH!

THUMP!

The shark appeared to be about the same diameter as the back of the boat.

“John, jump over, and head for the cabin.” His dad yelled to John.

The beast was as mad as a newly caged tiger, lunging at his three capturers. John could jump, but if it bit him, he would bleed heavily. John, held his breath and leaped over the giant fish, sliding as he landed right into the side of the cabin where his dad stood to soften the impact. John got up with his dad’s help and turned the corner opening the cabin door. Steve and Jim held the two harpoons, then dropped the fishing tools when John was inside and headed to the cabin as well.

From the window, they could see their catch thrashing around violently on the deck. It must have known it was beaten, but the shark wasn’t going to give up just yet.

This huge sea animal still had energy and life in its blood, though waning fast.

John recovered from the initial shock and excitement. He started to absorb the power and beauty of this magnificent creature. Long and crystal blue over most of its back and white underneath. Its rough skin shining in the sunlight. It had dark, brownish black eyes, and a long torpedo like nose. A magnificent blue shark. What a fish!

“We got him, John.” His dad said, proudly. “We really caught a shark!”

John watched the heavy breaths of this lion of the sea.

The boat still rocked back and forth a little, as if settling from the recent battle.

The young fisherman felt elated, but also a little sad for this incredible specimen. There was blood and sea water around the lifeless marine animal, that carried an empty stare.

The shark gave one final flop of its tail and then remained motionless.

His dad reached up his arms triumphantly, wincing with the pain in his shoulder, and gave John a hug. Even the captain smiled, approvingly.

“Quite an animal you got there, gents.” The captain nodded his head.

Twelve and half feet, over 400 pounds!

John sank into one of the deck chairs. He tingled all over from the experience. Reaching into his pocket for his last granola bar. He wasn’t sure if he was hungry or just exhausted.

His mother wouldn’t believe it. His friends and classmates back home wouldn’t believe it.

“Come on John, let’s get a photo.”

Jim climbed up on the top of the cabin to obtain an overhead view. Father and son crouched down next to the shark. Their smiles expressed relief and victory. They did it, together!

Jim turned the boat around heading for shore. John resumed his spot at the bow and smiled lightly as he and his dad watched the sun sink below the clouds. It turned out to be a great day just as he anticipated.

That night, John and Steve reminisced about the day.

“I couldn’t believe how big that shark was when it first slid into the boat.” John confided to his dad.

“Yeah, and how about when you had to jump over that shark!” Steve said, eyes wide.

“Sometimes you gotta trust in yourself.” John said, shaking his head thinking about it.

They finished their dinner with a triumphant feeling still resonating inside them.

John brought the dishes to the kitchen.

“I’ll clean up son, why don’t you go on to bed.” His dad said, as he gave him a warm hug.

That was a suggestion John couldn’t resist. John fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

The sun didn’t wake John up the next morning. He slept until almost 9:00 a.m.

“Morning Matey.” His dad greeted John with a warm smile sitting on the side of his bed. “No fishing today my friend.” Steve softly assured his son.

As much as John liked to fish and explore the ocean, that sounded just fine to him.

“Maybe a quiet beach day?” His dad suggested.

“Definitely.” John agreed, propping himself up on his shoulders, smiling back at his dad.

Steve had already made breakfast. Pancakes and bacon. It smelled delicious.

“What are they gonna do with our shark, Dad?” John asked as he pulled up his seat to the breakfast table and sipped his orange juice.

“Well, you can’t eat it. Blue sharks are too tough. But I was thinking it might look perfect right over the sofa back home.” His dad casually suggested with a grin.

“A real memory, John.” Steve said.

“I love you, dad.”

“Love you too, son.”

The End