As I increased the throttle, the boat slowly moved back toward the marker and eventually was right on the marker. The fish had pulled us instead of us pulling him!
We saw immediately that the fish had moved straight through the marker and was heading away from it on the other side. As we tried to figure out what to do next, the fish turned and started back to the marker.
"Here he comes!" shouted John as he began taking in rope. "He's headed right back for us!" Both of us knew what that meant, and within a couple of minutes the fish had managed to do what we both had feared. He had wrapped himself around several of the poles at the base of the marker. The rope was now tightly locked to the marker.
We knew the fish was still on, because his huge tail was boiling water on the surface as he tried to free himself. After several minutes, we decided that we needed to somehow unwrap the rope before it was cut by all the barnacles. John untied the rope from the boat cleat ( a BIG mistake!) and climbed up on the crossarms of the marker. As he moved around the marker with the loose end of the rope in his hands, he was turning white - literally. You see, this marker was a seabird roost, and was covered with their white excrement.
As I watched John's apparently futile attempts, I failed to realize that the boat had drifted away from the marker. It was right about then that I heard John telling me that he had the rope freed and that the fish was headed away from the marker again!
I scrambled to get the engine started and then realized that the anchor was out. So, while we both were screaming and I was pulling the anchor, I watched John standing on the marker helplessly trying to put pressure on the fish before the rope ran out!
But, as has happened so many times between the two of us, we got lucky. About the time I got the anchor up, the fish stopped and turned again. John was saved from a sure swim, because I know without a doubt that he would never have let go of that rope.
We got that fish, and even though this picture is old and worn, you can see just what a bruiser he was.
I am sure that John will read this story. We still keep in touch, and our friendship lives on. I wonder if he has the same feelings running through his head reading it as I had while writing it. Friendships come and go, but true friends last forever. John, if you are reading this, Bud, keep the faith!
