Better late than never

“If you want mate but I think they do cash back behind the bar I think.  Hang on a minute.”  Bill stood up and spoke to the barmaid.  “Hank your in luck, they can do cash back up to £50 with drinks over a fiver”.

“Right. Cheers mate.  Sorted.  Two pints it is then.”

  As he sat down, Bill spoke,

“All I’m saying is mate, these trips don’t happen often, when they do they are so worth it.  Costs us fuck all and we get to spend the day fishing in the sun and it counts as work.  Now a little dickey bird tells me that a few of these guys like booking these things abroad every so often and so it won’t hurt to keep on their good sides to  cash in on the real trips.”

“ah fair one.  So what’s the plan for tomorrow then?”

“Well there is nine of us and three boats so we’re going to have to sort out who goes on what, head out to the best fishing ground,  stay out come back  then  have a few beers and do the same again the day after.”

“so what time does it all kick off then?”

Bill should have known Hanks response.  “Four o’clock in the morning, fuck that for a laugh”

And that was why Bill was sat on a boat sipping gin with a rear admiral in the middle of the English channel.  At first they kept to opposites sides of the boat saying nothing to each other.  Although Bill wasn’t much of a sea fisherman he new enough to be able to lie and exaggerate.  It started off with the little odd comments here and there about bait and lines and equipment, the admiral sidling up closer to benefit from the young sailors apparent experience in nautical fishing matters.  As the old boys questions became more and more in depth, Bill started waffling about everything from aquatic sea life in the area to the old customs of ancient Cornish fisherman.  All complete bull shit but the bloke was believing everything he was saying.  Which was surprising considering they hadn’t caught a single fish.

“Thought you said this particular area was susceptible to the bread soaked in lager method Bill”

“It is sir, but it’s all about tide and time sir.  Depends which way the water is flowing, where the sun is in the sky and whether the surface temperature is just right.  It’s not just the tricks sir, it’s when to use them.” 

“Ah yes well they do say time and tide waits for no man eh”  The old man chuckled at his wit.  Bill ignored him.  “Well Bill even the padre isn’t having any luck,  I would have thought a man as pious as he would have had the odd miracle or two today.”

It was then that the old boys line went taught, then the rod started to bend almost completely over ,  Bill rushed over to help and grabbed the rod with him and helped to keep the rod in the boat.

“Jesus H Christ it weighs a ton.”  Bill said as they struggled to heave the aquatic beast from the ocean depths.

The admiral glance at him, with a frown, “Don’t let the padre hear you say that,  I don’t take kindly to profanities myself.”

“Fuck profanities you old tossed and start heaving” Bill thought. “sorry” he said.

After five minutes of struggle the fish was hauled on board and in the excitement, Bill forgot himself and exclaimed, “Look at the size of the fucker”.

“LNN Mason”, the admiral shouted as he got to his feet.  “ I will not warn you about such language again.”

Bill thought quickly and got to his feet and said “ No you don’t understand sir,  this is what they call this fish in these parts.  A fucker fish.  It’s old Cornish apparently.

“Oh is it?  Well I never, I apologise for my outburst.”  The admiral waved over to the other boats to come along side.  As the two boats approached, neither having caught any fish, the admiral shouted “ Have you seen the size of this fucker?”.

The padre looked up from the back of his boat, “Nigel!, I hardly think there’s call for that kind of language,  especially  in front of the young lad there.

The admiral went on to explain, as if he spoke fluent Cornish that the fish was in deed called as such.  Bill felt himself a warm glow when the Padre, on hearing the explanation then said,

“Oh really, I never knew that.  Well Nigel as you’ve caught such a fine specimen.  Allow our boat the privilege of cooking the fucker.”

With that the other boats occupants, not wanting to be left out wanted to gut the fucker, and all were looking forward to eating the fucker when they got back.

Bill was amazed at his self restraint.  But then was worried about Hanks.  He needed to warn him about his swearing or else future trips would be in jeopardy.

As it turned out he didn’t need to say anything,  Hank wasn’t in when they got back and as the other boys all went off to shower and prepare the fish, Bill got the phone number of the pub and called to tell him to come home for tea.

“Hello,  Anglers rest inn”

“Hi I’m looking for my mate, you haven’t by any chance got a drunk Irish man in there have you?”

“Don’t think so, what’s he look like boy?”

“Well is there anyone unconscious, or singing songs?”

“Nope”

“Oh okay, thanks”

Bill hung up the phone and was a little bit concerned.  He was even more concerned when the door opened and in walked Hank.  Sober.

“Are you alright mate?”  Bill barely concealed the concern and incredulity in his voice at Hanks vertical condition.

“yeah, I’m fine.  Just been to the shops, got some wine for tonight, and some bacon for tomorrow.Early start and all that.”

“Oh, so you’re coming tomorrow then?”

“Well mate it’s like you said, mind the occasional  P and Q and look keen then we’re sure to get the decent trips.  It’s a sacrifice I’m prepared to pay for ripping pusser off for a piss up in the Caribbean.”

“Oh hang on mate, I never said anything about the Caribbean.”

“well where ever.  A jolly is a jolly and it’s worth a bit of best behaviour anyway.”

So they behaved themselves.  The padre cooked a fine meal, they both  went easy on the wine and looked like they enjoyed the company  and conversation.  The evening was going well they thought as they sat around the fire with a glass of whiskey.

“well Padre that was a fine meal.  a nice piece of fish.  What was that sauce you used?” asked Hank with apparent earnest.

“Lemon and dill, the trick in cooking fish is not to over cook it.  Otherwise its too dry.”

“Ah sure, big enough fish as well good effort on landing it.” Hank was sounding so sincere, it was unnerving to Bill.

“ah no I didn’t catch it .  In fact it was the only fish all of us caught on the day.  And it was only thanks to Bill’s expertise that Nigel caught the Fucker.”

“Yes but Padre”, said  Nigel “You cooked the Fucker to perfection.”

“Hey don’t take all the credit,” Said the captain from the third boat, “It was Arthur and me that gutted the fucker.”

Hank looked at them all, took a swig from his whiskey, and said “ You know something, you cunts are alright.”