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Continued ...
After more than four sequences consisting of a dozen or more leaps, the marlin seemed to have settled down on the surface. I continued backing down towards the marlin. Al was able to retrieve most of the line, yet the marlin was still a good two hundred yards astern. The marlin seemed to be swimming away, at least that was what I thought. In all this excitement and not having a second mate on board, we decided that it would be best for me to come down from the bridge and be the one to stroke the marlin with the flying gaff, when Vicente grabbed the monofilament leader. Vicente prepared two flying gaffs, laying one on the port and one on starboard side of the cockpit. That was our immediate game plan to handle the situation without a second mate. Al continued winding on the reel until the marlin was close enough to the boat so that Vicente could grab the leader. Hastily, I put the boat in neutral and hustled down the ladder to the cockpit, picked up a flying gaff and moved in front of Vicente in order to stick the marlin with the gaff. Looking overboard into the ocean I saw this huge marlin just lying there on its side, not fighting. It had jumped its heart out and seemed to be dead, and there was no need to gaff the marlin. Al got out of the fighting chair; he took a look at the marlin just lying there, dead in the ocean.
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"I'd rather be fishin' blue marlin!"
Synopsis