Baiting & Fishing Read online

  Chapter 13

  The next morning, Ray's alarm went off at 5:00 a. m. He sat up in bed and smelled coffee. He noticed the door was closed and Marcella was not in her bed. He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth but decided not to shave. Showering and shaving was for after fishing. He felt grungy, but he knew he'd be a whole lot nastier before the day was over. He walked out into the other room. Marcella was drinking a cup of coffee and studying fishing reports on Ray's laptop. She looked up and grinned at him, but didn't say anything. He could sense her excitement at the prospect of being on the water soon. He started to feel it himself. He especially liked the fact that he would not have to drive the boat so he could concentrate on watching Marcella fish.

  She was wearing shorts and a tank top over a bathing suit. Her hair was pulled up on top of her head in a knot. Her fishing hat lay on the table next to the computer. He poured himself some coffee and looked over her shoulder at the fishing report. It looked good.

  She said, “If there's an all night grocery, I need some sunscreen and it would be nice to get some snacks.”

  “Cap said he'll provide drinks and snacks. I have sunscreen.”

  She nodded and resumed reading the fishing report.

  He went back into the bedroom and packed his day kit with sunscreen, a hat and a clean tee shirt. He tossed in his cell phone. He would not have service once they got a few miles out, but it had a decent camera. In a few minutes he was back. She stood up when he walked through the door and said, “Ready?”

  “I'm all set.”

  The captain and his son, a silent and sullen fifteen- or sixteen-year-old were already board when they arrived. Ray notice that Marcella checked the kid out carefully.

  The captain greeted them. He introduced his son. Ray introduced her as simply “Marcella”. The captain acknowledged the introduction by calling her Mrs. Bailey. Ray started to correct him, but Marcella shot him a look. He let it go. The captain showed them where to stow their gear as well as the location of the head and the snacks and drinks. He invited them to help themselves. Then he went up to the bridge and started the motor.

  They left the dock while it was still pitch dark. It was cool. Marcella had grabbed a couple of sweatshirts that were in Ray's back seat before they got on the boat. Both of them were glad she had done so. They rode in silence and sat transfixed as the sun came up. A short time after daybreak, the captain dropped anchor over a reef. Marcella had decided at the last minute not to bring her own gear. She said she didn't want to insult the captain by not using his. The mate handed her a pole and she expertly checked out the rigging. She didn't like the feel of it and asked the kid if they had a pole that was slightly heavier. He looked at her with a strange expression and said, “Yeah, but this is the one the ladies usually use. How heavy you wanna go?”

  “Give me a sort of medium heavy one. And give me the loosest reel you've got.”

  He gave her a grudging look of respect. Ray wanted to laugh. The kid was obviously used to dealing with clients, especially female ones, who knew nothing about fishing. He asked Ray if his rig was okay, Ray chuckled and said, “This will do fine. I won't catch much. You don't need to worry about me. The lady will keep you busy, believe me.”

  The kid gave him a puzzled look.

  Marcella dropped her hook. Seconds later, Ray saw her arms go up and the tip of her pole whip back. Even as she was lowering her arms from over her head, she started reeling like mad. The captain yelled at the mate, “My, God, she's got one already. Give her a hand.”

  The kid moved toward her. She tossed her head and snapped, “I can do it myself.”

  Within the first half hour, she caught several fish. Even Ray caught a couple, totally by accident, he was sure. The school moved off the reef and the captain moved the boat to another reef. Marcella pulled in one fish after another every time she dropped her hook. It was uncanny.

  Soon Ray gave up fishing altogether. Watching Marcella was just too fascinating. She always fished with total concentration, but this was different. She was not concentrating on finding the fish. The captain was taking her to them. She was concentrating on bringing them in fast, so she could get more. She was not so much fishing as she was hunting.

  At one point, the captain came out from the bridge and sat down on the top step where he could see the fish finder and watch her at the same time. At first Ray didn't like the look on his face, but then he realized the captain was looking at her with the same mixture of admiration, awe and lust that he did. He couldn't fault the guy for that!

  At one point the captain shouted, “Starboard! Twenty yards. 2 o'clock.”

  She didn't say anything or register in any way that she heard him other than to hold out her right arm and flick the pole. Ray thought that was insane. She was using a setup for bottom fishing, not casting. She flicked the end of her pole and the hook sailed out in an arc, like some kind of guided missile. It landed in the foam on the top of a swell, precisely where the captain told her to cast it. In only a few seconds, Ray heard her grunt. Her arms flew up and this time she set the hook with three sharp snaps. Must have been one big fish for her to work that hard to set the hook. She started reeling, smoothly and steadily, as fast as she could. The pole bent almost double. Ray and the captain moved toward her simultaneously. She set her feet, reared back and reeled madly. Sweat glistened on every inch of visible skin, the muscles in her arms and shoulder bulged and trembled.

  The captain reached for the pole to help her. Through gritted teeth, she said, “I can do it.”

  Cap said, “I'm sure you can. You show that fish whose boss and tire him out a bit. Until you do, I'm staying here to protect my pole.” She growled an incoherent response.

  He asked the Captain, “Should we put her in the chair?”

  Cap said, “I don't think this one is that big. Let's see how it goes.”

  She kept reeling and pulling up on the pole, which still bent almost in half. The fish was still fighting, but Marcella was winning the tug of war. The fish eased up on the pole just a tad and the captain was able to lean over the side to look for the fish; he was ready with the net and a gaff if he needed it. Marcella kept reeling. Ray noticed rivulets of sweat dripping into her eyes. He wiped her face. She was still gritting her teeth and grunting like a tennis pro. She jerked her head towards Ray and made a noise that (if he used his imagination) sounded a little like, “Thanks.”

  Sooner than Ray would have expected for the size of it, the fish was along side. It was a huge bonita. The mate pulled it aboard. Marcella waved her hand, “Weigh it and throw it back. I don't like bonita and I don't keep fish I won't eat.”

  She looked at the captain and said, “Where's the school now?”

  Ray couldn't believe she was ready to go again. He was exhausted from just watching her. The captain handed her a bottle of water and said, “They've moved off.”

  The mate looked up from the cooler and said, “We've got our limit on everything. Only thing we can legally catch now is sharks.”

  Marcella downed the water and said, “Then let's go home. I don't waste my energy on fucking sharks.”

  The mate weighed anchor and the captain went into the wheelhouse and put the boat in gear. A few minutes later he yelled for his son. The kid went up the ladder to the bridge. Marcella finished her water and stretched like a cat. Ray said, “That was very impressive.”

  She grinned and let down her hair, “I don't know about that, but it sure as hell was fun.”

  The captain had asked his son to drive the boat for a while. He came out of the wheelhouse and reached into the cooler. Even though it was still early, he handed Marcella a beer and offered one to Ray. He took a bottle of water for himself. He then sat down on top of the cooler and stared at Marcella.

  He said, “We've met before.”

  She held his gaze and did not flinch. She said evenly, “I sincerely doubt that.”

  “I think we have. I have only seen a demonstration of fishing mastery
like that once before. Interestingly, it was by a young girl.”

  Ray could almost feel the air around Marcella trembling but she showed no sign of agitation. She arched her eyebrows and said, “Oh?”

  The captain never took his eyes off her face. He began the story, “I grew up in Crestview, Florida. I think you know where that is. My dad and I used to go out fishing with a captain out of Destin. His name was Christopher Pappas. His wife died when she was very young and left him with a young daughter. Cap'n Pappas was a great fisherman and, I imagine, a loving father, but he didn't know jack about raising a girl. The first few times we went out with him, she was pretty young. She baited our hooks and brought us drinks and pretty much stayed out of sight, presumably so the Coasties wouldn't find out he had a mate who was way, way, way under age. She reminded me of a feral cat: wild and dangerous. When she was little, she didn't speak at all to the customers and hardly ever said anything to her father. I never heard him call her by name. If he called her anything, it was 'gal'.

  “After high school, I did a tour in the Navy which consisted mostly of not-so-luxuriously cruising up and down the coast of southeast Asia trying not to get blown up by the mines laid by both the North Vietnamese and the Americans. When I came home on leave, I told my dad I wanted to go out on water that wasn't mined and catch fresh fish to eat instead of the shit Uncle Sam fed us. He splurged and took me out with Cap'n Pappas, just the two of us.

  “At that point Captain Pappas' daughter was perhaps fifteen or so. When we first boarded the boat, she was sitting on the aft rail, smoking a cigarette.” He smiled. “Keep in mind she was the first female I had seen in months who wasn't an Asian prostitute. She was young, fresh and – to me, anyway – gorgeous. She was wearing a bikini top and short, short jean cutoffs. I think they called them Daisy Dukes. Anyway, it was all I could do not to either keel over or grab her. Her father came up behind me and said very softly, 'You can put those thoughts away, son. She is under age, for one thing. What is more, you would be lucky if you only ended up in jail. You see that knife she carries at her waist? Let me tell you, boy, she knows how to use it. Keep that in mind.'

  “The captain walked over to the girl and said something softly. She got up, flicked the ciggie in the water, and said something that sounded a lot like, 'Fuck you.' She went inside and came out wearing a teeshirt and jeans.

  “In a much shorter period of time than I would have expected we had a fairly decent catch, and we were tired. On the way back in, Cap asked if we wanted to troll. Dad said nah, he'd just as soon drink a beer and cruise. Cap then yelled at the girl, 'You can fish. First one is our dinner, anything else you catch goes to the customers. See if you can get enough for the Sailor here to have hisself a welcome-home fish-fry for his neighbors in thanks for the sacrifices he's making for this fucked up country we call home.' She laughed and without a word picked up a pole.

  “If I hadn't seen what happened next with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it even today. She pulled in mackerel and amberjack and god knows what else, just trolling. One after another after another. It was amazing. Then it got just god-damned unbelievable.

  “All of a sudden, the captain whirled the boat around and I heard him yell, 'Get ready.'

  “She snapped to attention and had a baited hook ready. He shut off the engine and hollered, 'Aft! Four o'clock. Thirty yards! NOW! NOW! NOW!'

  “My dad laughed and muttered, 'There is no girl on earth who can cast a deep-sea rig thirty ....'

  “About that time the bait settled almost without a splash right in the sweet spot at the top of a swell at least thirty yards from the boat. Cap was coming down the ladder. I heard him whistle.

  “She had a bite almost immediately. Her dad tossed the anchor overboard and was at her side in a second. He baited another hook, and they traded poles. He brought in the fish while she hooked another one. She kept the fish busy until he landed the first one and baited the hook. They swapped poles again. They went on like that for maybe twenty minutes. She was hooking big grouper that would have taken her a long time to bring in the boat. He was a big, strong man who could land them faster than she could. They were an incredible team. She hooked 'em. He landed 'em. It was the single most awesome display of fishing expertise I have ever seen.

  “Until today, anyway.

  “When we got back to the dock, Cap started cleaning the fish while the girl cleaned the boat. There were so many fish it was going to take him a while, especially since he worked slowly and carefully. He asked her what she wanted for dinner, she muttered something rude to the effect of , 'You know fucking well what I want,' and then said she was going to go shower. He asked her to help him clean the fish. She looked at him and sighed.

  “She took a knife from a sheath at her waist. Her whetstone was in a little pocket on the outside of the sheath. She spit on it and slid the knife oh-so-slowly along the whetstone a couple of times. Both my dad and I shuddered. I don't know if we were aroused or scared, most likely a little of both. Then she started in on the fish, like a surgeon ... or like Jack the Ripper.

  “She ended up with a neat stack of baggies all tied up for us, and a huge garbage can full of skin and bones. She was a bloody mess from head to toe.

  “When she was finished, she growled at him, 'If you have nothing else for me to do, I think I'll go take that shower now.' Her look challenged him to give her just one more order. She still had the knife in her hand.

  “He shook his head and patted her on the shoulder, 'Good work today, Gal.'

  “Then she smiled at him. I couldn't decide if I wanted to cry or throw myself at her feet and beg her to smile at me like that too.”

  He looked at her for a long time, then he smiled. “You've developed a lot more upper body strength since then, but the technique is unmistakable.”

  She paused for a long time. Ray thought for a minute she was going to deny that she was the same person. Ray noticed he felt a huge sense of relief. He had not actually thought she was lying about her past, but somehow having this corroboration of her story made him feel better.

  She smiled at the captain and said softly, “I remember that day. I didn't know what had got into Dad. I was so pissed off at him for making me change my clothes I couldn't see straight. I hated wearing long pants on the boat; they were hot and confining. What made the day memorable, though, was that it was the only time he ever let me fish when we had customers aboard. I think that was his way of making amends.” She grinned with a faraway look on her face, “I think that was the first day my dad actually realized I was a girl.”

  The captain said softly, “I have the feeling I was not the first client who noticed.”

  She made a disgusted face and tried to laugh, not entirely successfully. “No. You weren't. It is God's mercy that I managed not to be raped. When I first started going on the boat with Dad, I was ten and I knew nothing about sex. Frankly, I didn't know much more eight years later when I went away, but I learned a few key things very fast. I knew that men wanted to touch me, and I didn't like the looks on their faces when they did it. I learned very early never to go below decks when dad was at the wheel and there were any male clients on the boat, even if it was a man with his wife.

  “The closest call I ever had was just that situation. I went to the head and the man followed me. His wife and kids were on the deck. That was the day I started carrying a blade. The man waited for me in the galley. When I came out of the head, he pulled me toward him and put his hands on me. I was probably twelve at the most. I didn't know a lot about sex, but I did know the parts of the anatomy that were involved. He grabbed me, and I picked up a boning knife that happened to be lying on the counter. I pressed it flat against the front of his pants and told him that if he made one more move I would cut first and then scream. He could explain to his wife why I cut him.

  “After that, I was very careful.”

  They were all quiet for a while.

  The captain said, “My dad would never let me go out with
Captain Pappas after that. I think he had seen the way I looked at the girl. By the time I got out of the Navy, my parents had moved to Islamorada. I visited to Destin a few years later and asked about Captain Pappas. One of the other fishermen told me he had died. I asked about his daughter. They told me nobody had seen her since his death. Nobody seemed to know her name.

  “I think I became a fisherman because of Captain Pappas, and his amazing daughter.”

  He looked her up and down. He said, “It appears you have done very well for yourself, Mrs. Bailey.”

  She made a non-committal face, “Whether I have done well or poorly in my life depends entirely on who you talk to, Cap.” She sighed and a look of unbelievable sadness flickered across her face, then she brightened, “But I can still fish, can't I?”

  He grinned and said, “Oh, yes, ma'am, you can for a fact.”

  When they got back to the dock, the mate started to clean the fish. He had the general idea, but he was awkward and he tended to damage the fillets. Marcella reached inside her shorts and brought out a blade. She stepped up beside him and put her hand on his arm. She said, “Sharpen your knife.”

  He looked at her oddly, but he had either overheard the conversation between Marcella and his dad or her look was so commanding he did as she said. Then she grabbed a fish and stood next to him. “Watch, and then do what I do.”

  The captain and Ray both stood close and watched her, too. She cleaned fish with the intense concentration and delicate touch of a neurosurgeon. The kid followed along and did a creditable job with the first one. The next one went more smoothly. By the fourth fish, he was skinning and boning almost as cleanly as she did, if not quite as quickly.

  She cleaned her hands, arms and legs, but couldn't do much about the bloody mess on her shirt and shorts. She laughed. “The fish are neat when I am done, but I've never learned to clean fish without making a mess of me.”