Chapter 1

The sea breeze was gentle and calm but the salty air stung his eyes and throat. It didn't help that this fall had been unseasonably dry. Paul made his way toward the dock with his borrowed fishing poll, stopping briefly to inspect the brightly colored lures in the tackle shop window. He wasn't sure what, if any advantage one of these lures would provide him on his first deep sea fishing trip, but he would take any advantage he could get.

A bell above the door chimed as Paul entered the tackle shop. The old man behind the counter didn't budge from the morning paper. Paul was overwhelmed by the selection of lures in the display case. He settled on a bright green lure with black stripes and yellow eyes painted on either side. It looked like a lure that would catch the attention of any fish in the sea.

"I'll take this green lure, please."

The old man kept his eyes on his paper. "Naw. You don't want that one," he said.

Paul waited for the old man to offer him a suggestion, but never got one. "What about this pink one. The one that looks like a squid?"

The old man put down his paper and swiveled around on his stool. He pulled a dull lead colored lure from the wall, swiveled back and set it on the counter. "You're fishing for yellow tail, ain't ya?" He pick up his paper and resumed reading. "Color don't matter much to yellow tail. Besides, this one's cheaper."

"Good to know. Thank you," said Paul as he handed his money to the old man. The old man took the money and put it in his pocket, never looking away from his paper.

Making his way towards slip thirty-two, Paul admired the various ships anchored along the way. He'd always dreamed of owning his own sail boat and cruising around the Caribbean. But the idea of becoming independently wealthy enough to do such a thing seem impossible given his current financial state.

"Are you Paul?" A man yell at him from the deck of one of the boats. He was pulling in a line.

"Yes," Paul replied.

"Good. I'm glad I caught you. I'm Captain Stewart. We had to change slips last night and I didn't have any way of contacting you."

"I gave my phone number to the lady taking the reservations. I think her name was Dana."

"I don't have a phone. I figured I could spot you anyway."

"Why's that?"

"Dana told me this was your first trip. Your sandals gave you away. Need shoes on my vessel."

"I may have some back in my car. I'll go check."

"No, no time. You're late as it is. I've got a pair you can use. Get aboard so we can shove off."

Paul handed his fishing pole to the Captain and climbed aboard the ship. "I bought this new lure. I'm not sure how to tie it off to my line."

Captain Stewart, ignoring Paul, placed the pole in a rack with several others and precoded to climb the ladder to the bridge. The ship's engine rumbled to life spewing a healthy puff of diesel exhaust. It stung Paul's eyes and throat far worse than the sea air so he moved to the bow hoping to avoid further aggravation. The boat pulled away from the dock and soon they were on their way.