The Big Snapper (6 page)

Suddenly, the line lurches, and Eddie is catapulted forward. Granddad drops the gaff and grabs him tightly around the waist. Eddie is surprised at his strength. Then, just as suddenly, there is no resistance—Granddad and Eddie find they are pulling hard against nothing at all. Eddie is pitched back like he's been shot out of a slingshot. He stumbles against Granddad, who
softens his fall against the floor of the skiff.

Eddie sits there a moment as stunned as a newly caught fish. “I lost him,” he says.

“Yes,” says Granddad, pulling him to his feet. “You did. But you gave him a good fight. Something he can tell his friends about.”

Despite his disappointment, Eddie grins. He stands up and brushes himself off. Granddad reels in the line then he hands the rod to Eddie to attach a new leader and a piece of octopus. He hauls in the anchor and starts the engine to drive them back to shallower water. Eddie doesn't notice that it seems to take an unusual amount of effort for him to pull the starter cord. Twice, three times it takes Granddad to get the engine chugging.

Eddie feels the wind in his hair and the spray on his face as they cross the bay. He can't wait to tell Jake and Fred about the fish he almost caught. He'll tell them how it pulled them far out of the bay. He'll describe how it nearly yanked him overboard, but Granddad was able to save him at the last minute.

Granddad cuts the engine about the place they started out. He drops the line again.

Eddie begins to wonder what would have
happened if Granddad hadn't been able to grab him. What if the fish had pulled him right out of the boat? He imagines himself flying out of the skiff, skiing behind the fish across the water, just like he was being pulled by a powerboat. The fish was that strong. Perhaps they would get going so fast he would become airborne. This would certainly confuse the gulls and the eagles as well as the passengers on any passing boats: a boy flying through the air like a kite, with nothing holding him up, or towing him, because the line would be invisible from any distance. It would be a wonderful story, and he can just imagine the look on Jake's face.

“I never saw it,” Eddie suddenly says.

“No,” says Granddad. “He didn't give us the chance. But I bet he was half the size of this boat. I've become a pretty good judge of the size of a fish just by the way it fights.”

Eddie has a thought. “Do you think it was the big snapper?”

Granddad considers this. “No, it wasn't the big snapper. At least, not the one that I know. That isn't how he operates. He makes you use your head, not just your muscle.”

“Oh.” Eddie is a little disappointed.

“Of course,” says Granddad, testing the line. “It could have been one of his kids. Just feeling his way. The way he pulled hard on the line and then let it snap back—now that's something the snapper might have done in his younger days.”

“The snapper has kids?”

“Yeah, he has kids, three that I know of. Have I never told you about the time he chased me away when I stumbled on to them?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Hmm. Let's see, it was fifteen years ago, give or take a few. In the bay, on the other side of the point here, I was doing a little trolling. The water's always a little choppier around there because of the wind. But in one spot, it seemed choppier than usual. When I came up to it, that one spot was boiling with fish. Snappers—I figured it must have been a whole school of them—they'd come up to the surface to mess around a bit. But as I watched, I realized it wasn't a whole school at all, there were really only a few. They were just particularly rambunctious: playing some kind of fish tag, madly chasing each other around, back and forth, leaping between the waves, creating a lot of foam.

“Well, I didn't waste any time, you can be sure
of that. I dropped my anchor and cast, right into the middle of their game. As my bait disappeared beneath the waves, they stopped and watched after it. The water settled, and I could now clearly see three small snappers: two with frilly dorsal fins and one with an attitude and slicked back pectorals and tail. One of the frilly-tailed fry, a little bolder than the other, swam after the octopus and disappeared from sight. I waited for a tug on the line. Well, you can imagine how surprised I was when, instead of a tug, my hull was broadsided by what felt like a hammerhead shark. It hit so hard my skiff jumped fifty feet, like a stone skipping across the water. This dent right here...” Granddad taps a dent the size of a watermelon in the side of the skiff with his foot. “That's where I was hit.”

“What hit you?” Eddie asks.

“Why, the snapper. Don't know where he came from. Maybe he'd been out hunting for mollusks and thought the kids were safe. Well, I no sooner had a chance to get the anchor up and the engine started when he rammed into me again. And as you boys say when you're playing basketball—this time it got me some air. I flew right over the point in my skiff, clear
across the beaches on both sides and the cottages and woods between. When I peeked over the gunwale, people were gazing into the sky, rubbing their eyes and blinking.

“I landed right next to Fred who was out fishing. He was sprawled in the stern with one leg draped over the boat, his fishing hat over his face, and I think he was probably asleep. Woke him up quick though. I landed with a great splash that set his boat rocking. He jumped up so that his hat flew off and he stubbed his toe getting his leg into his boat. ‘Geez, Ben,' he said to me, ‘you shouldn't sneak up on a guy like that.'

“Well, I guess I looked a little shook-up myself because then he asked, ‘Are you all right?' I looked around to make sure that I was, that all my body parts and fishing gear had landed in the skiff along with me. When I was certain they had, I told him that I was. He then looked at me sort of quizzically, ‘The snapper?' he asked. ‘The snapper,' I said.

“Anyway, it taught me not to tangle with anything protecting its young. Look here, Eddie. I think we've got another bite. Nothing like what you hooked, but your mom's going to be happy with us tonight.”

Eddie helps Granddad bring in another salmon. Granddad is right; it's not anywhere near the size of the fish that almost pulled Eddie from the boat.

On the way back to the wharf, he thinks of Granddad's story. He thinks of how his own dad is not around to protect him. Not that he needs it particularly, but today, it was a good thing Granddad was there.

The following morning, Granddad cannot get out of bed. He is very tired and his legs refuse to do what he wants. Even when Mrs. Greenshaw is summoned with her basket of ointments and pills, nothing seems to help. Finally, Dr. Gibson visits just before lunch. He examines Granddad and then tells him he must go to the medical clinic and have some tests done after he's had a chance to rest.

Eddie remembers Granddad hanging onto him with the strength of an ironman so he wouldn't fly out of the boat. He wonders how he could do that one day and be so weak he can't stand on his feet the next. Eddie begins to worry that Granddad is weak because he used up all his strength rescuing him. For this reason he finds
it difficult to accept the congratulations that keep coming his way.

“I hear you almost caught a whale yesterday.” Dr. Gibson cuffs Eddie on the shoulder. “Taking after your granddad. Way to go, sport.”

Mom almost squeezes the Shredded Wheat right out of him, and Fred gives him the thumbs-up on his way to the wharf. Grandma says he's a chip off the old block—by that she means Granddad.

A new family moves into Eddie's room after lunch. Mr. and Mrs. Backhouse and their eight-year-old twin boys. Eddie quickly discovers that the twins are even more annoying than Becky Northorpe. By mid-afternoon they are already complaining there's nothing to do. Mr. Backhouse suggests they take a walk down to the wharf. Eddie watches them through the window. The twins are throwing mussels at each other and chasing the sandpipers with sticks.

At five minutes to four, Fred and Eddie help Granddad into the truck. He is not strong enough to walk to his appointment at the medical clinic in the village. Fred does some errands while Eddie throws a ball for Flounder in Mrs. Greenshaw's yard where Jake is polishing their old wreck of a bike.

“I wish I'd been there when you caught that fish yesterday,” Jake tells him. “It must have been so cool. Maybe if I'd been there we would have been strong enough to haul it in together.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says.

“What are you doing after supper? We should go to the dump and look for a new chain for our bike. This one falls off every twenty feet.”

Flounder drops the ball at Eddie's feet. He throws it for the ninety-ninth time. “If you want.”

“And some handlebar grips. These ones are shot. Look at this, the rubber is all dried out.”

“Yeah,” says Eddie. “I wonder what's taking Granddad so long.”

Flounder is lying next to Jake and Eddie on the grass, his tongue hanging out like an old balloon, when Fred and Granddad pull up in the truck.

Eddie and Jake climb in. “So, what did he say?” Eddie wipes dog slobber off his hands onto his pants.

“Dr. Gibson says I'll be fine,” Granddad answers, “with a bit of rest and some treatments.”

“Oh,” says Eddie. He wonders what kind of treatments, but Granddad says he'll be just fine
and that's what's important, so he leaves it at that. He does seem to be feeling a little better. Even so, Mom and Grandma order him back to bed as soon as they arrive home.

All through dinner, the Backhouse twins complain about the food Grandma has cooked. They prod the smoked salmon with their forks and poke their spoons in the shredded kelp soup. They tell their parents everything's just too weird to eat. Eddie can't think of anything less weird than kelp; it's as common as rain where he lives. Mr. Backhouse tries to shush them, but he's not very good at it. And Mrs. Backhouse seems too worn-out to say anything at all.

But Grandma doesn't notice, or if she does, it doesn't appear to bother her. She's got other things on her mind. She's wearing new glasses, and everywhere she looks, she's discovering things she's never noticed. In some ways this is good—she hasn't tripped or bumped into anything since she picked them up from the drugstore. But she's also noticing things that Eddie thought were just fine the way they were.

“Eddie, is that a hole I see in your jeans?” she'd asked just before dinner. “Good heavens,
yes, it is! You take those pants off right now so I can mend them before anyone sees you like that.”

Eddie had taken the pants off, although it was far too late to be seen without the hole. It had been there through most of the school year.

Eddie helps clear the table after dinner before heading to Jake's and the dump. “Eddie,” Grandma says as he's about to go out the door. She stands before the kitchen sink, washing dishes. “Don't you leave this house without tying your shoes. I can hear the laces slapping on the floor. You'll trip and break your neck.”

Eddie looks down at his runners. The laces are knotted and they do trail along the cabin floor. He bends down to tie them. At the same time he wonders how a new pair of glasses can sharpen a person's hearing. It's not easy to get them unknotted and tied up properly because he hasn't used them in ages, and although he's tripped many times, he's certainly never broken his neck.

Seagulls circle above the dump, dozens of them, screaming at Jake and Eddie. The boys have to climb a chain-link fence built to keep Trotter and the other bears out. Once they're
inside, they scout for old bikes in the new garbage. They know all the bikes and who owns them in the village, but now and again a tourist will toss one out. There are no new bikes, but Jake stumbles on a wooden wagon the size of a small tub.

“It's got a broken axle,” he says after inspecting it, “but if we fix that, we can hitch it to the bike so neither of us has to walk.”

Eddie thinks this is a great idea. They could take turns between riding the bike and riding in the wagon. They then struggle to get it over the fence before the sky turns very dark.