A Little Luck – Part 2

A Robin appeared from nowhere, alighting on the tip of the stationary rod with a sway and eyeing a few crumbs of bread in the grass. Realising the presence of the two anglers almost immediately, it flew into cover, scolding them vociferously as it went. Charlie’s father turned and spoke for the first time in over an hour.

“That’s a sign that we’re about to catch a fish.” He whispered knowingly to the young boy.

Charlie stared in open-eyed wonder at his father.

“Are all anglers aware of this amazing fact?” He wondered innocently.

“Oh yes,” His father continued, “It’s well known, a Robin landing on your rod is like being given a lucky charm, in fact I once…”

Charlie learned no more of the tale. His father had stopped in mid sentence and was now gripping the lad’s arm tightly in a signal for silence and nodding urgently towards the lake. As though to corroborate his father’s story, the big common had appeared, cruising steadily through the surface layers, heading towards the Lily pads. Charlie watched, hardly daring to draw a breath as the big fish slowed then came to a rest a yard from the floating crust.

He stole a quick glance at his father. He’d never seen such a tense look on his face. A bead of sweat had appeared just below the peak of his old flat cap and his temple was twitching. Charlie noticed how his fingers had whitened around the tightly gripped rod. His gaze fixed unerringly on the scene in front of him.

The big fish moved again. This time, with no further ceremony, it ghosted up to the bait, tipped itself slightly in the water, and nosed the bread gently. The piece of crust rocked in the water and moved a couple of inches away from the pads. A scattering of crumbs broke away like a flurry of snowflakes and hung in suspension around the hookbait.

“Please let the hook stay in.” His father offered up in silent prayer, terrified that the water-sodden bread would part company with the hook. Then, as if in answer to his plea, the carp came again to the bread. There was the briefest glimpse of a pair of lips, accompanied by a loud slurping noise and the crust disappeared into a mini vortex.

The slack line hissed as it was ripped from the surface of the water in a plume of fine spray. The cane rod hooped over savagely as Charlie’s father struck it high over his shoulder. In a flash, he was on his feet and paying out line to the running fish. There was no stopping her on her initial surge, and his father concentrated on applying a constant pressure on the drum of the reel.

The rod bucked violently as the carp slowed and shook its head in anger. Charlie was on his feet too now, and admiring his father’s skill with the simple tackle as he fought desperately to work the raging carp. The cane creaked alarmingly as he pumped the rod in an effort to win back some line.

This process was repeated several times over the course of the next few minutes; no sooner did the angler gain a few vital feet of line, than the fish would charge away, stripping the line again effortlessly. After what seemed like an eternity the powerful surges finally began to grow weaker and Charlie’s father exclaimed, through clenched teeth, “She’s tiring son.”

“She’s tiring now son.” He repeated, through shallow pants of breath. “Just grab the net and keep very still.”

Charlie responded, trembling with excitement. The water just in front of them boiled and they gasped in unison as the big fish rose in the gloomy water and came into view.

“This is the biggest fish I’ve ever hooked!” His father exclaimed excitedly, with a quavering voice. “Please don’t let her come off! Put the net into the water very slowly son.”

Charlie did as asked and held the net as still as his shaking hands would allow, just below the surface.

His father drew the carp slowly towards the net. She came through the water, slightly tilted to one side, her beautiful golden flank gleaming like chain mail in the dark water. She was no more than inches from the net when suddenly she woke up! Righting herself in the water and thrashing it to foam with her powerful tail, she thundered away again.

With a new and seemingly unstoppable strength she tore the line from the whirring reel and charged along the margin! Charlie’s dad fought wildly for control of the churning centrepin, his thumb burning with friction as he piled the pressure on against the spinning drum. The fish steadied a little but continued unabated with it’s bid for freedom.

Directly to their left the oak tree that gave the swim it’s name loomed menacingly out of the water. Charlie’s father knew this was where the fish was heading. If she made it to those treacherous roots he would lose her! The tree was a good thirty yards away and the fish had covered nearly half the distance when he instructed Charlie to drop the net and run down to the tree.

“If she tries to get in there throw a stick or something into the water to scare her out.” He shouted to the running lad.

Charlie sprinted to the tree and searched frantically for something to make a splash with. Vital seconds passed as he scoured the ground. He spotted an old brick, partly covered in moss. Seeing little else he grabbed this and scrambled to a position at the base of the tree. From this vantage point he could see the furrow the big fish made as it came towards him. With his heart pounding wildly, the young boy raised the brick above his head shakily and waited.

Back in their swim Charlie’s father was beginning to think he was going to lose this fish. He was applying maximum side-strain with the protesting cane rod and his thumb was burning painfully as he attempted to check the revolving spool. Although the fish was paying dearly for every inch of line, it would not stop. There was nothing more he could do, and as the fish entered the last few yards of water between him and the tree roots he resigned himself to losing it. In one last-ditch effort to stop the carp from reaching the snaggy lair, he locked the tackle up solid and prayed!

Charlie saw the fish about four yards out. It was shrugging its head as it came straight for the oak, fighting desperately against the unceasing pressure. He picked a spot in front of the fish and took aim. As it got to within two yards of the menacing roots his father’s prayers were answered. The big carp finally came to a standstill. His father could feel the fish stop and rise in the water against the pressure of the locked tackle.

Charlie let the missile go! The heavy brick was awkward in the ten-year-old’s small hand, and the throw was disastrous. He knew as soon as it left his hand that something was horribly wrong. The rising carp neared the surface. He watched as though in a dream, the twisting trajectory of the poorly thrown brick looping through the air, and the burnished scales of the carp’s majestic head as they broke the surface tension. They came together with a sickening dull thud! There was a hiss as the sharp edged brick severed the taut line and Charlie’s stomach retched as he saw a big ugly white gape appear on the fish’s head. She listed over onto one side and sank slowly from sight.

The young boy stood biting his lip as hot tears ran down his face. His father came running, demanding angrily, “what the hell happened? What the hell did you throw?”

Poor Charlie was beside himself and could barely speak through the sobs as he explained to his father what had happened.

Charlie’s father, on seeing his son in obvious distress, soon quelled the anger he’d felt, and though he was bitterly disappointed he did his level best not to show it to the grief-stricken youngster.

“We’ll catch her next time Charlie, don’t you worry son.”

Charlie was inconsolable and felt sure his wretched throw with the brick had killed the innocent carp. He adored wild creatures of any kind, and to think he might be responsible for ‘murdering’ one was almost more than he could bear.

“Honestly lad, them old carp are as tough as old boots. I’ll bet she’s as right as ninepence in a week or two. We’ll meet up with her again one day and you see if I’m not right.” His father tried to reassure him.

The walk home that evening was a troubled one for young Charlie, he was to suffer bad dreams about that fish for several years to come. He said little on the way back, talking to his father only once to ask him, with a wavering voice, “How do fisherman know a Robin is lucky dad?”

His father feigned enthusiasm and told him, “Well it’s one of those little bits of knowledge that have been passed down from father to son over the years lad. Every fisherman, no matter how good he is, needs a little luck sometimes.”

Glad of the opportunity to take the young boy’s mind off of the days disastrous events he continued, “when a Robin visits you make sure to offer him a little food and he’ll usually repay that kindness with a little luck.”

This intriguing tale cheered the woeful youngster a little and they continued their journey home in silence, Charlie’s spirits a little brighter.

In Part 3 the big carp stirs beneath oak……….