f Eight
A short story
By Everard Bromley
Copyright 2015
Everard Bromley
[email protected] This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to
and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products if referenced in this work of fiction which have been used without permission.
The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Pieces of Eight
I was tooling around on 'Google Earth' one evening, looking at fishing spots along the coast south of East London, I liked to look at how the rocks just back of the surf line lay because none of the parallel strata of these rocks ran straight out from the beach and if you did not pay attention you would end up casting out over a submerged spine of one of the strata and the mussels, barnacles and other shellfish which covered these rocks would hook up your line and as soon as you put any tension on it would snap off and you would be left with a few meters of worn, rough and frayed loose end and no tackle.
I had worked out that if I cast in the same direction as the strata, although not necessarily giving me the same distance from the beach as a straight cast would, I was guaranteed to find deeper potholes, also I had less chance of hooking up, because the fish obviously waited behind these natural submerged banks for all sorts of prey brought in by the flow of water pushed over by the motion of the waves, bringing all within the ambit of the lurking predator, I had a better chance of attracting a fish to the delectable morsel I was offering.
So by paying attention to how the strata lay, I could find a suitable direction to cast resulting in the least loss of tackle for the highest strike rate.
I was looking at the beach just west of Kayser's Beach, which is the best part of forty kilometers west of East London and on looking at the rock promontory known as 'The Sisters', which is a brisk two kilometer walk from the public car park, I saw that the little beach which lay just to the west of the second 'Sister' was guarded by, what was unknown to me at the time, a submerged mass of rock lying about fifty meters out from the beach, closer inspection showed, because of the light at the time the photo was taken, a barely discernable but distinctly oblong mass of lighter color lying directly behind this dark 'submarine' toward the little cove, the picture must have been taken on a particularly calm day because there were no breaking waves and the water must have been clear of the usual suspension of sand and other debris that normally clouded the water.
Now from experience I knew that there was usually an unbrolen line of breakers clean across from the rocks on the west, across the width of the beach and past the 'Sisters' and all along the line of rocks that were to the west of the 'Sisters'.
I made a mental note of this for the next time I was in that area.
My friend Mark called me two weeks later and said he was going to fish at Kayser's that weekend and would I like to come?
"Sure I said, but the water will be really calm so the chance of hooking a good bluefish or two will be remote."
I had looked at 'WindGURU' for the area and saw that there was no wind and no waves predicted for the next few days so I decided to take my wetsuit and 'snorkeling' kit because I knew we had a better chance of getting the odd 'Crayfish' than any swimming fish.
It was an hour before spring low tide and we had walked along to the beach from the car park, past all the rocks and the paddling lagoon that made the beach so popular with parents of small kids.
We decided to have a 'throw' into the gulley caused by the 'rip' at the end of the rocks where the main beach started, just on the off chance of hooking a 'Galjoen', but because there was no current, a result of there being no waves, there was no action in the gulley so there were no takes.
Mark and I carried on along the beach to the 'Sisters' when I remembered the lighter colored boulders and decided to investigate.
"I'm going to have a 'snorkel' to see if there are any 'crawlies' here, are you going to wait or have a 'throw'?" I said.
"I'll go in with you." he said, so we both pulled our wetsuits on and after kitting up flip flopped walking backwards to enter the water at the small cove next to the 'Sisters'.
While Mark hugged the extremity of the 'Sisters' looking for opportunity I headed out the fifty meters of so towards the 'submarine'.
Visibility was crap, about three meters because of all the usual suspension in the water, after about five minutes of 'flipping' I became aware of the dark mass below me and knew that I was above the 'submarine' and taking a deep breath swam down the four meters to investigate.
If you have ever snorkeled in a surf roiled, rock fringed, sea before, especially if there is no roar of the waves, you will immediately become aware of the cacophony of life under water, the continuous clicking, popping and squeaking, like the dawn chorus of bush dwelling birds at the first sign of dawn, also you will know the cadence of the glugging of air trickling from the snorkel as it fills with water, like the sound of liquid being poured through a constricting spout.
Your ears constrict so the deeper you dive you have to equalize by pinching the nose and blowing into the middle ear.
The surface of the 'submarine' was covered by the usual plethora of mussels, barnacles and other shellfish and a huge all encompassing tangle of fishing line, like otherworldly cobwebs, I worked out the area of the submerged rock for future knowledge when casting and saw that it was about five meters front to back from the beach but ran about fifteen meters parallel to the beach, in front was a depression cleared by the constant wash of water over and around from the sea side, I ran out of breath and surfaced exhaling with a spitting movement to expel the water that had built up in the snorkel.
In this depression I had seen a large number of round rocks a distinctly different color from the black granite of the 'submarine', obviously what I had seen on the satellite view.
Taking another deep breath I swam down to investigate further, I circled as far along the perimeter of this pile of boulders as my breath would allow and saw a number of dark heads of what looked like weed covered wood about three hundred millimeters square, I knew immediately what I had discovered.
What I also discovered lying on the surface of these boulders was a number of rather large 'Raggies' somnolently waiting for a fish to foolishly swim past them, or a morsel to be washed over the rock, I knew it was not normal for them to hunt during the daytime and I was aware of their eyes watching me, but because I was not considered either prey or predator I was ignored for the most part.
Heading back towards the 'Sisters' I took a few more dives when I saw color on the bottom and avoiding the ever present danger of the tangle of nylon fishing line managed to hook a couple of legal sized 'Crayfish' for the pot from between the rocks.
Mark had been as lucky so we called the ladies at home and told them to make a salad and put a big pot on to boil for when we got home in about two hours time.
After returning home, Mark and I spent the rest of the afternoon having a few frosty pints with fresh 'Cray Tail Mayonnaise' and salad while socializing with our girlfriends.
That evening while researching on the internet, I went into the archives of Rhodes University and the East London Museum, looking for the name of the shipwreck I had seen, but nowh
ere could I find reference of it, so I now knew that I was probably the discoverer of a new unnamed wreck, whether ancient or not I would have to explore.
Fishing was predicted to be crap because of the extension of the unusually calm seas for the next fortnight so, that same Sunday evening I outlaid the capital necessary to buy a metal detector online from an outfitter in Cape Town, one that could be used on land and underwater, intending to sweep the area around the wreck to see what metal there might be and if there were possibly any cannon that would give a better dating to my discovery.
By Tuesday my detector arrived by courier and I could not wait to try it out.
I took some leave from work and headed back out to Kayser's Beach to have a sniff around.
As it was a week day there was nobody around, it was a little dangerous to go snorkeling alone but I did not want to share my knowledge just yet, at least until I was certain, anyway the sea was still as calm as a millpond, which was really unusual for this time of year.
I swam back out to the 'submarine' and I took this opportunity, because the water was a little clearer than the weekend, to take a few photographs of the pile of boulders managing to get the best angles showing the slow arc