Calypso's Mast

Chapter 21 - Hooked

Pringle was standing up in the front of the boat holding onto a short length of rope that was tied off on the nose of the boat. He had it pulled tight and was using to keep his balance while he looked ahead for signs of the crocodile. He glanced left at the setting sun and pointing to it he called back to Schofield. 

"We're going to have to go back, I think."

Schofield slowed the boat and then stopped the motor so that they could talk. They had been running with the gathering swell toward the north and now would have to turn and punch into it as they headed back to camp.

"I think our chances of finding this croc out here are next to impossible. We need air support. You reckon the boss would give us a plane like that Winston Heartfelt fellow last night?"

"I doubt it. The boss is too dumb. A plane would be perfect for spotting a big croc. We need a plane and a boat. The plane can spot him and then the boat can go and get him."

"It's a shame we haven't got a plane," said Schofield, "However, we have a boat. You're right though. We should head back."

He started the outboard and shouted above its noise. "I might swing in a little closer to the beach and see what we can see on the way back. You never know."

Pringle nodded and turned to look out the front of the boat. Schofield swung the dinghy around to port and headed toward the west, to the distant coastline. After travelling for about fifteen minutes, they were within a few hundred metres of the shore where he turned the boat to port and headed south. The choppy waves forced him to go a little slower than the speed they had been making while they were heading north.

The last bit of the sun vanished below the horizon behind the hills to the west leaving a dazzling red and pink sky as the final rays sought to hang on to the fine particles of dust and moisture in the atmosphere before slipping inexorably away.

They had been travelling for about a half hour when Pringle suddenly came alert and gestured at Schofield to stop the engine. Schofield pulled the deadman-clip out and the engine stopped.

"What's going on?" he asked. The boat coasted to a stop.

Pringle crouched a little and kept his focus forward.

"I think it's him," he said. "I think it's the croc. Down there." He pointed off to the right of the bow.

As the light continued to fade, it was becoming harder see. Schofield looked over the starboard side of the boat and could see a huge black shadow below them.

"How on earth did you see that while we were driving along?"

"Dunno. Just did."

"Are you sure it's him?"

"No. But it's about the right size. There's a good chance it's him."

"What are the odds of that? Good job. Now what? If we leave him, we may have trouble finding him again. We've got no way of catching him. We haven't got a trap."

"I got this," replied Pringle as he held up a handline.

Schofield shook his head in disbelief.

"Mick! How do you think you are going to catch a two tonne crocodile on a groper line? Even if you hook him, you'll never pull him in. And if you do manage to get him in, what then?"

"Watch and learn, grasshopper."

Pringle selected some very smelly, prawn bait from the bait esky and loaded the hook. Then he dropped it over the side of the boat.

"It's not very deep. It must only be three or four metres, if that," said Pringle.

Schofield was not feeling very comfortable with such a monster of a croc beneath them in the shallow water. It was three times longer than their boat.

"Mick," he said. "I don't feel all that comfortable with this. You can't catch a big croc on a handline."

"Yes, you can," said Pringle. "And it's not just a handline. It's a Groper Line. It's a steel trace and steel braid. It will take a lot to break this baby. All I've got to do is catch a fish. Once I've got the fish on the end of the line, it can't run away and will be easy bait for the croc. Remember how many times we have been fishing in the river and have never taken home a single fish because each time you hook something it gets smashed by the local croc."

"Yes but then what? Once you catch him, we can't pull him in. What do we do then?"

"Who cares? We'll figure that out when we catch him."

"I still don't think it's a good idea. You're going to get us killed. I want to die old and grey with heaps of grandkids – not as croc food."

"You're not going to die as croc food. There's plenty...Oh! I'm on. It's a Queenie. Look at that!"

"Oh no. Here we go!" murmured Schofield. He could see the flash of the big Queenfish in the water as it darted around trying to get off the line. Suddenly the big shadow moved and the flash was gone.

"Start the motor! Start the motor! Quick!" yelled Mick. "We have to run with him."

Schofield jammed the deadman clip back into the stop button and started the outboard. Pringle was paying out line as the reptile went on the move, heading north. Schofield jammed the outboard in gear and accelerated to take the pressure off the handline.

As they moved off, the line went slack and Pringle wound it in a few turns.

'Don't go too fast. We've got to keep the pressure on him so he keeps swimming," Pringle called out over his shoulder. "We've got to tire him out."

"How long is this going to take?" asked Schofield.

"How long is a piece of string? Whatever it takes. At least we've got him. We could have been driving up and down here for weeks and not found him."

"Yes, well, I don't think we have really got him," muttered Schofield under his breath. "If anything, he's got us." Out loud he said, "Mick. You're mad."

Pringle turned around with a big pearly grin contrasted against his black face. "Thanks."

It was getting dark and they were in that twilight zone. Pringle had tied off the line on the front of the boat and was taking a rest while Schofield kept the line firm by regulating their speed so that the croc still felt the pressure and kept on swimming, trying to get away. They watched the croc angling for the distant shore.

"Darren. If he goes all the way into the beach, we're going to have trouble. What are we going to do?" asked Pringle becoming a little concerned..

"I dunno. You're the ideas man. You come up with some answers."

Soon the small breakers could be heard in the falling darkness and Pringle was getting worried. "I might have to cut the line," he said.

"After all this? You'd better not!" said Schofield

"What if he swims to the beach and climbs out?" Pringle pulled out a pair of pliars from the tackle box.

"Don't you let him go!" said Schofield. "It will take forever for us to find him again. I know what we can do."

He reached down beside himself and grabbed a roll of duct tape and a short length of rope.

"If he hits the beach, we will too," he said. "We'll get a snout rope on him, then tape his mouth shut and truss him up."