The fellows are spinning tales about giant sea creatures. So Plunger relates the following tale from his childhood.

"We got to Red Hook one Sunday afternoon at about two thirty. It was my younger brother, my older brother, myself and our ole man. My ole man was a serious hunter: wild ducks, wild pigeons, waterfowl, Barby doves, whelkcrackers. As long as it had wings and he had a twelve-guage, a sixteen-guage, a four-ten or even the twenty-two, watch out! He was good for his fishing too, especially trolling. Which we would have been doing that day, most likely out by the Tobagos, if we had left the house by 7:30. (Who knows, maybe my mother had insisted that we boys had to go to church that Sunday, and he, feeling like he wanted us along this time, had waited till after lunch to set out for some hunting instead of the combination trip.)

"Anyway, we're at Red Hook. He and my older brother are headed into the mangrove to get the dinghy so they can go bring "Trade Wind" to the wharf for us and the supplies. The remaining two of us walk out onto the wharf. I look out towards Trade Wind, but the first thing I see just yards away from the dock is this huge moving mass of blackness. At first I think it is the shadow of a passing cloud. As I look closer, I realize I'm looking at two giant sting rays, no less than 9 feet across at the fins. I show them to my younger brother, then both of us yell out to the others: "It got two BIG stingrays up here by the wharf."

"How big?" our ole man calls back from the mangrove as they start launching the dinghy.

"Big, Big!"

"Keep your eyes on them!"

"In a few seconds the dinghy is launched and my older brother and the ole man are rowing energetically against the southeasterly wind to bring the dinghy alongside Trade Wind, bobbing on her mooring. Soon, they're on the larger boat, the twenty-five horsepower greymarine is puttering, my dad has cast off and they're headed our way, my dad the lookout on the bow and my brother at the tiller.

"Yo' see dem yet?" I call out to the ole man. He signals yes, and directs his skipper to bring the boat to the dock.

They pick us up at the dock, and we take turns keeping our eyes on the rays. The ole man orders me to find the grain, where its hidden under the bunk, to be careful with it, my younger to retreive the white plaited rope (used often in those days for clotheslines) and he attaches the two. Then he takes his post at the bow, orders the chase begin and commands the helmsman to head Trade Wind wherever he points.

"Look! They're behind you now! They're coming under the boat. Stay on course. Good! The smaller one is at the bow now. Stay like that! The bigger one is coming out now! Euungh!" With that our ole man, who wasn't known to be particularly athletic, launched the five-foot metal grain. Things started happening right away. The rope started uncoiling rapidly. It was all he could do to make two quick turns around the bow cleat of Trade Wind. By now all of us except the tillerman were on the forward deck and cabin observing the action. But the pressure on the rope from the wounded sea beast was too much for two turrns. And my father was wincing from the heat of the rope sliding through his hands. The struggle was brief. Soon our end of the rope had gone and we could only see it trailing in the water. By now we were in front of Red Point, at the exit to the bay. We followed the trail of the white rope for another minute or so before it disappeared into the deeps of Pilsbury Sound.

"Dat's it! Gone! Everyt'ing! Ray, grain, rope!" sighed my father.

We would wonder about the condition of the giant ray and then, I am sure--though we never said it openly to each other--wonder what crazy impulse had swept over all us to do such violence to that beautiful and graceful sea beast. I tell myself that it had to do with that hunting business!"

25 September, 1997

Gilbert A. Sprauve

DISCUSSION:
How would you describe the feelings of the teller of this tale as he recollects the crucial incident in which he participated as a boy? Would you describe the "graining" as one of the memorable moments in the lives of the three brothers? Explain why you would or would not describe it as such. Does the incident relate in anyway to how we treat "guanas" or "crapauds?" Explain your response.