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The forty-six footer challenged the inlet's wrath with a stubborn resolve sending cold spray
high over its bow. In a moment we broke free as the twins turned turquoise water
into a trail of white foam. We were on a blue water hunt with both throttles rammed forward.
Hurriedly the first mat pulled bait from the chest and began his task of rigging ballyhoo
and preparing teasers. Turning his back to us he worked feverishly rammed hook into ballyhoo
and snipped half bills. Then he slung leader round about in a way that was his mark of trade.
The captain looked down at us from the bridge and smiled at the controlled fury
in prep for the long anticipated hookup. Climbing up to the bridge I marveled at the broad horizon.
Its gold had turned to silver over an indigo blue palette. Before noon every teaser had been bitten off
as each reel sang its sweet song beyond Barry's reef.

Just as we paused in exhaustion first mate reached for his gaff as if it were a harpoon.
Then we saw it breach...