Fishtales!

One Last Cast Presents . . .

FISHTALES!

Look first for one about a curious discovery made on Chappaquiddick Island and then further down below for

a tale about a near Derby scandal at Lamberts Cove Beach.

Chappy Chunckers: A Fishtale by Owen Silva

It was another long Derby night without much action. My friend Tom and I were at the Gut on the last night of the month-long fishing tournament. It was cold, but the three stripers we caught early on inspired us to stay.

I was nearly sleeping standing up, dazed by the rhythm of casting/reeling/jerking, casting/reeling/jerking and then: Come on! I’m stuck on a rock!?

Bam! Whoa! Fish on!

Zing! The line was coming off the reel so fast it made me dizzy. This fish was strong-- making long runs.

But, soon enough, my fish was within 20 feet. A bass for sure—I could see its stripes under the moonlight. The biggest fish I’d ever seen. It was amazing: almost as long as I was tall. “Sweet!” yelled a nearby fisherman. It had been the best fight of my life and that’s saying a lot as I have 5 brothers. I dragged the fish up on shore with my hands and pulled the hook out. Everyone was yelling and whooping at the sight of my bass.

Good thing I had brought my spring scale for fish up to 50 lbs. . . it promptly snapped in half! The needle tipped too far, the spring shot out and the whole thing fell apart.

I borrowed Tom’s electric scale which clocked my bass at 62.4 lbs. Could I have set a Derby record?

The sun was barely starting to come up. I should have rushed to the Derby Headquarters, but Tom was stuck on something now. We all yelled, “Not it!” but I was last. I had to jump in the water to help him free his homemade specialty lure. Then, I realize it’s stuck on a sunken ship.

Forgetting about my prized bass, I jump in the water and quickly realize I need my scuba equipment and light to get a closer look. When I get back in wearing everything, I can barely make out the letters on the sunken vessel which say, The Port Hunter. The famous 320-foot World War I supply ship which sunk off the Vineyard in 1918. Tom had heard there was one locker, #188, on The Port Hunter that was never recovered and was supposedly filled with treasure. I silently crept through the watery halls of the ship hoping to see “#188.” I carefully pass what looks like barnacle covered jackknives, beat-up books and passenger items left behind in the scurry of the sinking. I pick up the jackknife.

There it was in front of me. “188” in rusty numbers, with a mussel hanging off the 1. I sped through the hatch but too fast. The draft pulled the hatch door closed. No time to worry about that but what I didn’t hear was the lock silently clicking behind me. I grabbed an old boot and gold bracelet that I could sell on ebay later. A heavy box with possible gold coins lie in front of me. I tried dragging the box through the water toward the hatch door but the handle of the hatch wouldn’t budge. I tried banging the hatch door with the heavy metal box, hoping for someone to hear the struggle on shore. The metal hatch still held strong 100 years later.

With 5 more minutes of air left, I had to get through the door quickly. I grabbed the jackknife and began using it as a screwdriver. The bolts were old and corroded. It was hard to open. It took another four minutes to twist the bolts off. Now I had to come to the surface. And fast. But not too fast or else nitrogen bubbles would form in my blood and I could get the Bends.

I finally came to the surface, carrying the jackknife, bracelet, boot and box.

I lugged the box to shore to switch my scuba tanks. Then I saw my bass. It was drying out and I had to get to Derby headquarters right away to weigh it in. It was time to decide which was the greater treasure.

I went back to the ship to free Tom’s lure which I had forgotten all about, and grab one more box which had caught my eye before biking to Derby Headquarters with my backpack full of ice and fish, knowing I might never see the great wonder again as the wreck of The Porter Hunter was quickly drifting out to sea. At Derby Headquarters I weighed in my bass which had lost 2 ounces. Still, I set a record at 62 lbs. 2 oz.

Then, Tom and I went back to the beach to hack the boxes open. The day was new and we couldn’t wait to see what was inside.

Stay tuned for the next installment of Fishtales by Owen Silva

The Big Fish Catch at Lamberts Cove Beach: A Fishtale by Rye Silva