THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1997, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, February 9, 1997 TAG: 9702070257
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 02 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Roanld L. Speer
LENGTH: 70 lines
``Call me Ishmael.''
That's the way the storyteller starts as he takes us on a ride with a crazy fishing boat captain named Ahab whose life centers on his pursuit of a big white whale known as Moby Dick. The whale ripped a leg from Ahab, and the chase is all that matters to the captain in the 1851 classic novel by Herman Melville.
I, too, am going to take you on a fishing trip with a captain in his mid-40s who . . . well . . . let me start my story this way:
``Call me Ronald L.''
The captain of the good ship Bullfrog is as determined to hook monster fish as Ahab was to nab his whale.
``Reelreelreelreelreelreelreelreel!'' shouts Bob Eakes at a close friend strapped in a fishing chair, who is trying desperately to overpower a 400-pound bluefin tuna. ``Reel that %$(NU)$%$(NU)%&*&%$(NU) in so somebody else can catch one.''
The cranker rolls his eyes, grins and keeps cranking.
``I got one, too!'' shouts another fisherman in the crowded cockpit of Eakes' 35-foot fishing boat. There's only one chair, so his $2,000 rod and reel is strapped to his waist, with a rope running from the belt to a cleat so the angler can't be yanked overboard.
``Cmongirlscmongirlscmongirlscmoncmongirls crank those reels, get those fish in so somebody else can have a turn - throwbaithrowbaitthrowbait do I have to shout it all the time - don't throwsomuch don't throw so much do you think that bait's free now throw baitthrowbaitthrowbait.''
The father of the bluefin tuna fishery off Hatteras is sweating as the 75-degree waters of the Gulf Stream warm the air about 20 miles southeast of Hatteras where Eakes discovered thousands of the big fish four winters ago.
The cockpit is a madhouse, water sloshing across the bottom, bloody frozen baitfish everywhere so they can be thrown overboard and attract the tuna, bodies banging against bulkheads and bodies.
Finally a 350-pounder is at the boat. Eakes jams an orange-and-white tag the size of a 6-inch piece of spaghetti into the tuna's flank, grabs another stick and pulls a special hook through the fish's lip and cuts the leader.
Eakes invented both the tagging tool and the easy-release device. The fish shoots away.
``Getinthechairsomebodydamnwell-
bettergetinthatchairrightnow!''
There's a mad scramble and shortly a hooked bait is dropped off the stern. An explosion rocks the water 5 feet from the boat and another tuna is hooked, while Eakes is still trying to spur the angler belted to his rod to crank faster to get his fish in.
I keep out of the way mostly, sticking to my resolve not to crank in a big bluefin and use up all the muscles in my arm for life, and few shouts are aimed my way.
The Bullfrog is surrounded at times by more than 65 boats, all hooking and releasing bluefin, shouts ringing across the water.
The Bullfrog hooks its first about 9 a.m., and the 19th about 1 p.m. as we head for home. The fish range from an estimated 150 to 400 pounds.
``I probably do get a little bit excited,'' Eakes concedes on the way home, but he says he likes to get the tuna in as quickly as possible so they won't be stressed by the fight.
He's tagged more than 600 fish, and three years ago hooked a bluefin that weighed nearly a thousand pounds.
``The good charter boat captains do a lot better,'' says Eakes, who fishes for fun and owns the Red Drum Tackle Shop in Buxton.
I don't know about that. The Bullfrog was the first to find schools of tuna three times on our trip.
And I'm pretty sure Captain Eakes has tongue in cheek when he's giving orders rapid-fire.
After all, he's read ``Moby Dick'' and indicates he pulled for the whale.