Frederick Forsyth No Combacks

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The old man turned and nodded a greeting at his guests. He said nothing. He
was dressed in tough blue canvas shirt and trousers from which two gnarled
bare feet hung downwards. His face was dark and wizened like an old walnut and
topped by a battered chip hat. He gazed at the sea with eyes wreathed in
wrinkles from a lifetime of looking at bright water.
"Monsieur Patient has been fishing these waters man and boy for sixty years
at least," said Kilian. "Even he doesn't know just how long and no one else
can remember. He knows the water and he knows the fish. That's the secret of
catching them."
Higgins produced a camera from his shoulder bag. "I'd like to take a
picture," he said.
Td wait a few minutes," said Kilian. "And hod on. We'l be going through the
reef in a short while."
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Murgatroyd stared ahead at the approaching reef. From his hote balcony it
looked feathery soft, the spray like splashing milk. Close up, he could hear
the boom of the ocean breakers pounding themselves into the coral heads,
tearing themselves apart on ranks of sharp knives just below the surface. He
could see no break in the line.
Just short of the foam, old Patient spun the wheel hard right and the Avant
positioned herself parallel to the white foaming line 20 yards away. Then he
saw the channel. It occurred where two banks of coral ran side by side with a
narrow gap between them. Five seconds later they were in the channel, with
breakers left and right, running parallel to the shore half a mile to the
east. As the surge caught them, the Avant bucked and swung.
Murgatroyd looked down. There were breakers now on both sides, but on his, as
the foam withdrew, he could see the coral ten feet away, fragile feathery to
the sight but razor sharp to the touch. One brush and it could peel boat or
man with contemptuous ease. The skipper seemed not to be looking. He sat with
one hand on the wheel, the other on the throttle? staring ahead through the
windshield as if receiving signals from some beacon known only to him on that
blank horizon. Occasionally he tweaked the wheel or surged the power and the
Avant moved surely away from some new threat. Murgatroyd only saw the threats
as they swept frustrated past his eyes.
In sixty seconds that seemed an age it was over. On the right side the reef
continued, but on the left it ended and they were through the gap. The captain
spun the wheel again and the Avant turned her nose towards the open sea. At
once they hit the fearsome Indian Ocean swell. Murgatroyd realized this was no
boating for the squeamish and he hoped he would not disgrace himself.
" say, Murgatroyd, did you see that damned coral?" said Higgins.
Kilian grinned. "Quite something, isn't it? Coffee?"
"After that I could do with something stronger," said Higgins.
We think of everything," said Kilian. "There's brandy in it." He unscrewed
the second vacuum flask.
The boat boy began at once to prepare the rods. There
were four of them which he brought from the cabin, strong fibreglass rods
about 8 feet long with the lower 2 feet wrapped in cork to aid the grip. Each
was adorned with a huge reel containing 800 yards of monofilament nylon line.
The butts were of solid brass and cut with a cleft to fit into the sockets in
the boat to prevent twisting. He slotted each one into its socket and secured
them with lanyard and dogclip lest they fall overboard
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The first arc of the sun's edge rose out of the ocean and flooded its rays
across the heaving sea. Within minutes the dark water had turned to a deep
indigo blue, becoming lighter and greener as the sun rose.
Murgatroyd braced himself against the pitch and rol of the boat as he tried
to drink his coffee, and watched the preparations of the boat boy with
fascination. From a large tackle box he took a variety of lengths of steel
wire, called traces, and a selection of different lures. Some looked like
brilliant pink or green baby squids in soft rubber; there were red and white
cockerel feathers and glittering spoons or spinners, designed to flicker in
the water and attract the attention of a hunting predator. There were also
thick, cigarshaped lead weights, each with a cip in the snout for attachment
to the line.
The boy asked something in Creole of his grandfather and the old man grunted
a reply. The boy selected two baby squids, a feather and a spoon. Each had a
10inch steel trace protruding from one end and a single or triple hook at the
other. The boy attached the cip on the lure to a longer trace and the other
end of that to the line of a rod. Onto each also went a lead weight to keep
the bait just under the surface as it ran through the water. Kilian noted the
baits being used.
"That spinner," he said, "is good for the odd roving barracuda. The squid and
the feather will bring in bonito? dorado or even a big tuna."
Monsieur Patient suddenly altered course and they craned to see why. There
was nothing on the horizon ahead. Sixty seconds later they made out what the
old man had already seen. On the far horizon a group of sea birds dived and
wheeled above the sea, tiny specks at that distance. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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