“Do you think we should take some water or drinks on the boat Rich?” I asked.
“All of that is taken care of Jase, all we have to do is get to the boat, and down there sir, is our chariot!” He pointed triumphantly towards the beach where a large and powerful looking quad bike was parked.
“I've hired it for the next few days. Those bastards from last night will have a hard time catching me on that baby!” We made our way down towards the bike.
“Jump on the back Jase!” he said as he swung his tall skinny frame over the seat. This gets worse and worse Green. I sat on the back and the engine roared into life. We sped on up the beach and in what felt like a few seconds we had arrived at the water-sports centre.
Richard parked the bike in the shade near the front and we got off.
He pointed towards the large ski boat which was now floating in the water. “There’s our boat, fully stocked with bait, rods, reels, drinks and food. Shall we go fishing?”
“Let’s go fishing!” I replied and we started walking towards the boat.
As we arrived and boarded the huge boat, I noticed that it was indeed fully kitted out. There was a fighting chair bolted into the rear, and a plethora of huge rods and reels in holders running down the side. All the rods were fitted with large deep sea lures and there was a captain and a deckhand on board. Within a few seconds a crew of workers had arrived and began to push the boat out to deeper water. The captain, who was standing on the raised deck turned to greet us. He wore tatty browned clothes and a straw hat. His skin was blacker than most due to the nature of his job and his white teeth showed in stark contrast.
“Good morning gentlemen. I am Austin, and I will be your captain today. Please sit down and relax, there are cokes in the cooler boxes. We will be leaving just now and going out beyond the reef to do some trawling. Let’s hope we have some good luck today.” The inboard motor gurgled into life as Richard and I looked around the boat and made small talk. Eventually the ground staff had pushed us out far enough to turn us around and we faced the reef. Slowly we made our way out through the shallow protected waters. I took a seat on the side of the boat and looked down into the crystal clear water. As we travelled, I noticed myriads of tiny fish and hundreds of huge red starfish on the sea bed. Richard was in a jovial mood and was busy familiarising himself with the layout of the lower deck and the fighting chair.
“How far to the reef, Austin?” he asked.
“Not far sir, three hundred metres now. Only one place to go out and come back. Straight ahead.” Richard climbed up the chrome ladder to where the captain had the wheel.
“Ah this is great! Come up here and have a look Jason,” he called. I followed suit and the three of us stood on the top deck watching our progress through the now deepening water towards the gap in the reef. Although there was a breeze from the movement of the boat, I could feel the sun beating on the fibreglass roof above and reflecting off the sparkling water all around me. Behind us the figures on the beach at the water-sports centre were tiny and the thick green jungle hung low and humid in the distance.
“So what will we be catching today Austin?” asked Richard.
“Fishing, yes, catching, not sure sir. But with luck, maybe barracuda, sailfish, even marlin.”
“Marlin!” Richard said, “that would be something hey Jase?”
“It certainly would Rich.” As we approached the reef the captain stood in concentration to ensure we made it safely through the right spot. Sensing he would prefer us not to be there I motioned to Richard as if to say ‘let’s go down.’ He dutifully followed me down the steps to the fishing deck. The young deck hand was busying himself attending to the equipment, testing drag strengths, and polishing the massive reels. I opened one of the cooler boxes and found it full of ice, bottled water and soft drinks. I pulled out two waters and offered one to Richard.
“Cheers Jase, after last night I think I need it,” he said.
“True story Rich. Was quite a party.” We sat on the bench seats and gazed back at the slowly receding land, the powerful engine steadily rumbling and gurgling below us. Suddenly the boat started rocking more than before and the engine became louder.
“Through the reef now, hold on please, we go!” shouted the captain from the wheel deck. With my right hand I gripped the rail and braced my body as the rear of the boat sank, found its footing, and we roared off into the open sea. The front of the huge boat crashed violently but solidly through the breakers for a good two minutes, before the water calmed and the captain turned left. He made a parallel run with the now distant coast and we were finally on the plane, the wind blowing our hair. I turned to look at Richard. He was sitting on the opposite bench seat grinning at me from behind his sunglasses.
“This is great!” he shouted over the engines. I smiled and gave him the thumbs up. It was difficult not to like Richard Lewer-Allen as a person. He was exactly as his father had so painstakingly described in the red file I had been given. Spontaneous, full of jokes and laughter, an easy smile, definite ladies man, adventurous, wealthy. Yes, wealthy Green. And don't forget that you are here to try and find out how he got that way. I decided that when we finally reached the fishing grounds I would make some conversation and try and find out something about his business.
See if I could glean any information from him. After all, we’re now the best of friends, and friends share their secrets. Don’t they Richard? The water around us was calmer and a much deeper blue now. We travelled for a good twenty minutes at full tilt until the driver puller back the throttle and we came to rest.
“How long have you booked the boat for Rich?” I asked.
“I wanted the full day Jase, but they told me at the water-sports centre that it gets too hot and the fish don't bite at midday. So I guess we’ll go back at around lunch time. Is that ok?”
“That's fine by me,” I replied. “I think we should start trying to catch some fish.”
“Yeah. Let’s do that,” he replied enthusiastically. With the engine chugging slowly, the captain turned the boat around so we were facing south.
“Right,” he said, “now we are in very deep water, we are going to cast all of the rods and slowly make our way along the coast back towards Paje. The deck hand will help you with everything. Good luck gentlemen.” We spent the next ten minutes casting the eight heavy rods out to sea behind us. We allowed for at least two hundred metres of line to drift out with the lures behind us so as not to spook the fish with the sound of the engine. The captain and deck hand were helpful and knowledgeable and eventually all the lines were out and the rods placed in the angled holders at the rear of the boat. We were both fitted with harnesses and given instructions on what to do in the event of a big strike. The fish would be allowed to run and the base of the rod would be fitted into the tough plastic cup of the harness. Then whoever had the fish would be strapped into the fighting chair and the battle would commence. I had to admit to myself that even given the strange and highly unusual situation I had found myself in, I was thoroughly enjoying myself. And so was Richard. He constantly questioned the captain about what to do in all manner of situations. How would we land a sail fish? What happens if we hooked a shark? Etc etc.
Fifteen minutes passed and he began to quieten down. The boat rocked gently in the swell and slowly we made our way along the coast with the deep, hypnotic rumble of the engine beneath us. We both sat in silence, smoking, drinking the iced water, and taking in the scene around us.
“So I guess it’s a case of sit around and wait?” Richard said, looking at me.
“Yup, I guess it is, Rich.” Suddenly I heard the captain get off his seat and walk to the left of the wheel deck. I turned to see him holding a pair of binoculars to his eyes and staring out to sea.
“Whale and dolphins to the left!” he shouted. Richard and I got up and walked out to the back of the fishing deck to have a look. In the far distance I made out the shape of the whale. Its body and huge tail surfacing, its spout occ
asionally blasting water high into the air. Then literally out of the blue, we were surrounded by a pod of dolphins. They were black in colour and shot around the boat like bullets.
“Wow look at that,” said Richard, “that's amazing, I've never seen dolphins here before.” They cruised through the water like guided torpedoes, occasionally tilting their heads to take a look at us. Then, just as quickly as they had come, their curiosity satisfied, they were gone. We sat back in the shade of the overhang and I decided it was time to start on Richard Lewer-Allen.
“So what do you do in London Rich? For work that is,” I said casually. “Umm I run a shop,” he replied, “a sports shop. We sell snowboards, skate boards, surfboards. That sort of thing. Been going for a few years now.”
“Oh right, I think you mentioned it last night,” I said, “is it your place or do you run it for someone else?”
“No, it’s my place. I've got a few staff who are pretty good and they help me out.” He was relaxed and talking easily. I had been worried that he might be reluctant to speak about his business, but it appeared not. “It's actually down near Liverpool Street Station, called The Boardroom, do you ever get down there?” he asked.
“No, not a lot,” I said. “Working in insurance I don't get to move around as much as I'd like. Nope, it’s pretty much a nine to five I'm afraid. Stuck in the office.” “Yeah.” he said dreamily, “but at least we’re here and not in that shit hole.”
“Oh I hear you,” I said nodding, “have you been in London all your life?” I said.
“Yeah, I've lived either close to, or in London all my life. My father works in London. He’s a banker. And a bit of a wanker for that matter,” he grinned, “I like to travel though. And you Jase, have you been in London long?” It seemed I had his full trust and he would talk about most things. Maybe not the incident with the switching of the bags at the restaurant in Notting Hill. But most things. I figured I had no reason to lie to him.
“I was actually born in Rhodesia, and I was in the army there. I left after the war and came to London, been there ever since, so coming out to Africa now for me is great.”
“Rhodesia” he said with interest, and paused, “is that Zimbabwe now?”
“That's right” I replied.
“Oh right, I thought your accent sounded a bit different.”
We carried on making small talk like this for a while. It was all part of getting to know each other and I decided that given the situation, there was nothing else for it. It seemed he was slightly reluctant to let me know he was from a wealthy family. As if in some way it embarrassed him. What was clear to me was that there was no love lost between him and his father and when asked about his family he skilfully steered the conversation away from the subject. It all fell in place with what I had learned so far. Another thing that struck me was although he would talk freely about The Boardroom, he made no mention of any other ‘sideline’ - whatever it was that he was doing was clearly a secret. The boat chugged its way along the coast slowly. Richard and I talked and joked for at least an hour until suddenly the peace was shattered by the loud and alarming sound of screaming reels. Two of the massive fishing rods, one on my side, and one on Richard's side were bent over facing the rear of the boat. They jerked violently, seemingly in unison and I felt certain that one would surely break under what had to be enormous strain.
“Two fish on now, take the rods please!” The captain shouted from the wheel deck. The pitch of his voice had gone up a few octaves with excitement. Suddenly the deck was a flurry of activity. The quiet deck hand leapt into action and was frantically reeling in the other rods to save ours from getting tangled with them. Richard and I both went for our respective rods and yanked them out of their holders. The force pulling on my rod was unbelievable. It felt like a tug of war with a small car. In my youth I had fought the vicious tiger fish of the Zambezi Valley but this was something completely different. I jammed the base of the rod into my right lower belly, held it low for a second and then struck hard twice yanking it upwards to embed the hook properly. Whatever was on the other end felt it and the huge golden reel began to scream like a banshee. Any attempt to wind in the reel in this situation would have been totally futile.
“How much line is on this reel?” I shouted to the captain. “Two thousand metres sir, just let the fish run a while.” the pain in my back from the beating with the club was starting to return as I held fast. I glanced to my left at Richard who was in a state of panic shouting questions at the deck hand continuously. I didn't pay it too much attention as I had my own set of problems. Eventually the captain and the deck hand managed to get all of the remaining rods reeled in and the fight began in earnest. The captain spoke to me in my ear above the noise and chaos,
“Right boss, I am going to fasten this fighting belt around your waist, when I tighten the drag the fish will pull hard and you must put the base of the rod into the cup. Ok?”
“Ok, I'll do that” I panted. The deck hand was busy telling Richard the same thing. The deck was now a confusing place of thudding footsteps, frantic shouting, and the high pitch screaming of the reels. I felt the heavy leather belt as it was fitted and fastened by the captain behind me. He shouted commands to the young deck hand in Swahili at the same time. He came up to my left and spoke to me, perspiration dripping from his face. “Ok boss, I am going to tighten the drag on your reel now and I want you to be ready ok?”
“Ok, let's do it,” I replied. Keeping the giant rod at forty five degrees to the ocean, I put my left leg forward to brace myself and leant back slightly. Thankfully the end of the rod was now firmly in the leather and plastic cup of the fighting belt and no longer digging into my groin. The captain leant down and in a second had tightened the drag on the great reel. It was only then that I felt the true power of the monster that was on the end of my line. Although I kept my braced position I was dragged at least a metre towards the back end of the boat. I could feel the captain holding on to my fighting belt from behind me. I guessed in a fleeting thought that the last thing he needed was a client pulled overboard into the shark infested waters of the Indian Ocean.
“Fucking hell!” I shouted, “Jesus that's a strong fish!” At that moment the great beast leapt out of the ocean and soared majestically into the air. I saw it all as if it was slow motion. It was at least four hundred metres away but even then it was an awe-inspiring sight. Eight feet of sinuous, shiny black and blue muscle with a sword in front and a sail on its back, blasting frothy white spray behind it as it burst from the water twisting and jerking frantically.
“Marlin, boss. Big one!” screamed the captain behind me. The fish went under and started to dive, pulling to my right.
“Keep the rod up and try to reel in now boss!” shouted the captain.
I glanced at Richard to my left. He was hunched over his rod and groaning with the strain, his glasses half way down his sweat-soaked nose. I noticed that his line appeared to be pulling to the right as well. Suddenly the fish made a left turn and both rods bent in the same direction. Sensing something wrong, the deck hand shouted to the captain in Swahili. Richard asked above the chaos, “what's going on here?”
“One fish only, boss!” the captain replied, “one line tangled for sure, dunno which one!” At that moment I heard the twang and hiss of a line breaking. The brutal force on the end of my rod was still there and I heard a series of thudding sounds behind me. I turned briefly to see the figures of Richard and the deck hand spread eagled on the wooden deck. He had broken his line and had tumbled backwards onto the poor chap.
“Sorry, Rich!” I shouted shaking my head and straining as the fish made another run. The captain pulled me backwards towards the fighting chair. “Time to strap you in boss, this is gonna be a big fight!” Eventually I was manhandled into the seat and strapped in. There was an angled foot rest which helped take some of the strain off my now deeply wounded back. Through the chaos I felt for Richard, would he be disappointed or angry at losing the fis
h? It turned out he wasn't at all and he appeared to my left shouting encouragement and demanding advice from the deck hand. I was glad about that. By then the baking sun was high in the sky and I was soaked with sweat. It poured from my arms, my hands, my feet, my face. More than once I had to ask for assistance to push my sunglasses back up to my eyes. I knew in my mind that what I was going through was the equivalent of a workout at the gym three times over, but the adrenalin was coursing through my veins and keeping my burning muscles strong.
For the next half hour straight, the fish ran, then slowed. Ran, then slowed. I reeled in a bit, then it ran again. This pattern repeated itself countless times and I began to wonder if I was fighting a losing battle. All the while the captain fed me bottled water and Richard shouted excitedly. Then I saw the tail break the surface of the water. It was only a hundred metres away. I had been wrong and I was actually bringing it in slowly. Fish close now boss!” said the captain. I could feel my hands starting to develop blisters from the squeezing and pulling on the rod but seeing the great fish so close to us helped to put that out of my mind. As the fish began to tire it made great sweeps from the left to the right and I was being slowly turned with it as it moved.
Fifteen minutes, and a lot of pain and shouting later, I had brought it to within fifty metres of the boat. “Brilliant!” Richard shouted, “fucking brilliant! You're doing it Jase, keep it up!” The captain was on the radio excitedly informing the boss at the water-sports centre that we had hooked into a blue marlin and to prepare for a trophy weigh in.
“More water please!” I said to the captain who obliged by pouring it from the bottle into my mouth and over my shoulders to cool me down. The cycle of pain and progress continued until the fish was only twenty five metres from the boat. Thinking I had won the battle, I pulled and cranked the huge reel as hard as I could, snarling as I did it. The fish responded with its own anger and aggression and made another run. Again the reel which had started to quieten down, screamed, but this time with a sense of urgency. I imagined that somehow it knew, deep in its primitive mind, that the end was near, and that it was going to die. Thankfully the run only lasted for forty metres or so before it tired again and began its pattern of arcing from left to right, turning me in the chair with it. Through all the chaos, the heat, the pain and the sweat, I felt like I knew the great fish, and it knew me. Two old friends, or maybe enemies, pitted against each other in a deadly battle of wills. From then on I knew that the fish was exhausted and that with every time it turned back on itself whilst it made its arc, I brought it in another five metres. Richard stood on my left hunched over with his right fist clenched. His face was red with excitement and he was shouting, “come on Jase! Just one more pass and he’ll be here, keep going mate! Keep going!”
The Jason Green series Box Set Page 19