Mid-Evil Hand Cuffs-the Trouble with Trebles.
It all started out as just another fishing day bottom fishing on a piece just south of 17 fathoms. After a day of "OK" fishing we were heading back to the dock with a few assorted fish in the box. It was a warm spring day and the water temperature was pretty high. The wind was light so I decided to run the MegaByte from the tower. After about a mile or so, I began to notice a bunch of blues swimming just below the surface. It wasn't too late so we decided to break out a few plugs and troll up some fun on the way home. I tied on a rapalla deep diving plug armed with a pair of treble hooks. Another rod was set up with some other lure. It didn't take long, about 2 minutes when a drag started screaming and we had one on. It was the Rapalla. Bob was nearby so he grabbed the rod and began to work the fish. As he brought it boat side we saw it was a bluefish. No one wanted any blues so after asking Bob if he wanted to tag it, I ran to get the tagging kit from the cabin as Bob boated the fish and began to unhook it. Just as I was emerging from the cabin I heard this blood curdling scream. I ran over to see what happened and saw a hook from the free treble planted firmly in Bobs left hand with the other set still in the fish. Upon closer examination, the hook went in through the bottom of Bob's left thumb, had passed all the way through and was pressing up into the middle of the nail. Bob was saying in a crying sort of voice something about the fish thrashing when he was reaching for the plug. Well, with blood all over the place, both Bob's and the fishes, I ran back into the cabin to exchange the tagging kit for a first aid kit. Once again, emerging from the cabin I heard a new even more horrible scream. It seems the fish started to thrash around a bit. Now I can imagine this would have been painful to Bob, but what he did almost defies comprehension. He used his right hand, his good hand to hold the head of the fish down. Now, this is a pissed off blue fish we are talking about here. So, he did what any other self respecting blue fish would have done under the circumstances, he bit down on Bob's index finger. I walked over to find tears flowing from Bobs eyes as he looked up at me with a look of pure desperation with his left hand held fast to the plug, the plug firmly attached to the bluefish, and his right hand in a vice like grip between the teeth of the bluefish. He was handcuffed and at a complete loss for what to do next. It was Bob, the plug, the fish and back to Bob again in a trillogy of pain, blood & torture that has to be seen to be fully appreciated.
I threw a rag over the fishes head to simmer him down a bit. Our third angler grabbed a pliers and cut the eye of the treble to the fish. Thankfully the fish opened his mouth for a minute and Bob slipped his bloody mangled finger from those razor sharp teeth. We threw the fish back and I looked at the mess Bob was in. I decided he needed a doctor and there was no way I could figure out what to do with that hook, so I cut the treble eye removing it from the plug, poured on a bunch of peroxide and iodine and bandaged his thumb leaving the hook alone. More Peroxide and Iodine & I bandaged his other hand and suggested he try and keep his hands elevated. I pointed the MegaByte north and opened her up and we were on our way. After about 10 minutes or so, I turned to look at Bob and it was all I could do to keep from laughing. There he was, a very unhappy camper, sitting there with 2 huge bandages one on each hand held high in the air as we bounced along on the 1 foot waves. His head bouncing like one of those dopey dogs you put on the dashboard of your car.
As we entered the inlet I raced through and we plotted the best way to get him to the hospital. We decided that with the two bridges between us and the hospital, the best course of action would be to dock the boat and take him by car. Then, as luck would have it, there was a Nassau County Marine cop in his boat right in front of the Long Beach Bridge. We called him over and he agreed to take Bob to the hospital. As Bob was climbing into his boat, the officer asked us what happened, I gave him an abbreviated version which I think he found hard to swallow. That is until he looked over at Bob. There he was, again his two bandaged hands held high, that mournful look of pity on his face, sitting in the drivers seat of the police boat. The officer calmly suggested that Bob take the other seat, which he did and they were off.
Bob returned about an hour or two later. The left thumb all bandaged with the hook removed and the right finger bandaged as well. To my surprise he needed no stitches.
Well, we often laugh about that incident. Especially when Bob does something else clumsy or, maybe I should say less elegant. But, although he's broken a few rods and reels, he has not hurt himself or anyone else since that most unfortunate day. No wait... there was the time he sent a hook through his thigh. About 1 inch below his you-know-what the hook went in and out leaving a scar like a snake bite... Well, that's another story, but every time I see that hookless plug in my bag, I have to sit down and laugh...

Good Fishing - Captain John
(cr) July 2002