Here I stand in the crisp sea air sleepily listening to the seagulls squawk. The stench of cigarette smoke fills my nose, like the smell of the bait to my left. The rod tip bounces up like a scared grasshopper then I hear that sound, a beautiful song, the words Fish on. As fish bite our hooks like they’ve never eaten, Captain Rick stands above us like a lion, watching his pride. The mates run by faster than a speeding cheetah. An inexperienced fisherman has a dog fish, making him catch a person across the boat, tangle he Bellows my line is almost to the top. I can see the white of the Fish’s stomach glistening in the sunlit waves sparkling like jewels. It’s coming closer as I reel, it inches nearer through the Crystal Clearwater over the edge and into my hand. It’s a keeper about 19 inches wet scales slide out of my hand into the bucket. I dropped the line down, next thing I know Fish on!