The village of Ocracoke was bathed in the warmth of
a golden sunrise that Saturday morning in late September of 1968. It
was a typical day to most islanders, but to Toby Reynolds, this was a
very special day. As soon as his eyes opened, he jumped into his
clothes and shoes, and flew downstairs to find his father. He ran into
the kitchen where his mother, Molly, was mixing a cake to bake for a
celebration later that day, and with a hurried voice asked,
"Where’s Pa?" His mother replied, "He’s working out
back. But you sit down and have some breakfast before you take another
step young man." Toby begrudgingly sat down, and consumed a bowl
of cereal and a glass of juice at warp speed. When finished, he
quickly thanked his mother, and shot out the back door. His father was
mixing a can of paint to use on the back of the house when Toby ran
out of the door to confront him. "Well Pa, today’s my birthday.
I’m eight years old now. Remember what you said Pa? When I was about
eight years old I’d be old enough to go fishin’. Do you remember
Pa?" the boy asked with excitement. Jim stood up and looked down
at his son. The thoughts whirled through his head. How could time have
gone by so quickly? It seemed like yesterday when he and Molly got
married and he built the house. His job as a carpenter had been so
demanding over the years. It seemed as though everyone east of the
Mississippi River wanted a summer home on the Outer Banks. He had
worked long days, and often through the weekends. The money was good,
and the house was almost paid for, but as he looked down into his son’s
bright eyes, he knew that he had to take some time out for Toby, or
just as quickly, he would be grown and off on his own. And besides,
there was only one answer that would satisfy the longing in those
eyes. "Sure Toby. I remember. This paint can wait for another
day. Why don’t you go in and ask your mother to fix us a couple of
sandwiches to take with us while I clean up here and load the fishing
gear." About the time Jim had the old pickup loaded, Toby ran out
of the house carrying a basket of food, and Molly was behind him
carrying a jug of lemonade. "I’ll hold off fixin’ dinner till
you get back. Maybe you’ll have us a couple of nice fish for
supper," she said. "Don’t worry Ma," Toby replied.
"We’re gonna catch some fish all right." Molly gave them a
smile and a wave, and off they went.
"We’re gonna have to stop by Mr. O’Neal’s
on the way to ask him for some fresh line and a couple of hooks,"
Jim said as they pulled out of the driveway. "Sure Pa. Mr. O’Neal
has all kinds of really neat stuff for fishin’. He’s probably
about the best fisherman there ever was," Toby said. As they rode
along through the village streets, Toby spotted his old friend coming
out of his workshop. "There’s Mr. O’Neal," Toby said as
they pulled up and stopped. Toby was fond of the old timer. He and his
friends liked to stop by Mr. O’Neal’s on their way home from
school to listen to his stories about life on the island when he was a
boy, and his many fishing adventures. Mr. O’Neal was a great
storyteller, and the boys stopped by as often as possible. Jim told
Mr. O’Neal what they were up to, and Mr. O’Neal said that he had
everything that they would need. "So today’s your
birthday," he said to the youngster. "Well I think that
there’s no better way to spend your birthday than fishin’.
Besides, I think the fish should be bitten for sure after that rain we
had last night. Yep. I think you’ll do real well today. I’d go
with you, but I’ve got to finish some things in my shop." He
gave them the tackle that they needed, and off they headed for the
beach.
As they rode past the dune line, the beauty of a
golden beach greeted them with sunlight shimmering on the vastness of
the wide-open water. Seagulls circled above, calling in the warm
breeze. The sky was so blue. It was a perfect day. As they rode along
the beach, Jim told Toby how to look for a good slough to fish in.
After finding a promising spot, Jim stopped the old truck, and they
got out to begin their adventure. Jim started to show Toby how to rig
the lines, but the boy was so intent upon what his father was doing
that he had leaned his head in right over Jim’s hands. "You
know Toby, I could do this a little easier if I could see what I was
doing," he said smiling down at the boy. "Oh yeah. Sorry
Pa," Toby said looking up with a wry smile. After rigging the
lines, the next order of business was getting some bait. Jim got out
the cast net and showed Toby how to hold and throw it. He was much too
little to throw a net of course, but he wanted to learn anyway. They
had been so busy that they hadn’t noticed the abundance of bait in
the surf. It seemed like every wave had a school of mullet swimming
through it, and in no time, they had a bucket of bait. Jim showed Toby
how to hook the bait and how to cast, and the boy walked to the edge
of the water, and gave it a fling. It didn’t go out very far, but
Jim told him that it was far enough, and he too cast out his bait. It
wasn’t long before Toby felt a pull on his line, and he yelled out
"I got one Pa!" "Hold onto it," Jim yelled back.
"Set the hook like I showed you, and reel it in." Jim was
doing his best at coaching the boy, but he too had a fish on his line,
and had his hands full. "When you get it to the edge of the
water, walk backwards and drag it up the beach Toby." The boy did
just like he was told to do, and by the time Jim had brought in the
nice bluefish that he had been fighting, Toby was standing by the
truck looking down at a three pound flounder. "Ain’t it a
beauty Pa?" Toby said looking up at his father with a proud grin
from ear to ear. Jim wished that he could keep that moment locked in
his mind and heart forever. "It sure is a beauty son," he
said. "It sure is." The next several hours went much the
same way. They caught more flounder and blues. They caught drum, and
they caught mackerel. They had so many fish that their buckets were
full, and they had to start laying them in the back of the truck and
covering them with an old blanket. Jim watched as Toby’s casts went
farther and farther. He was baiting his own hooks, and Jim was proud
to see his boy doing so well. "I think we better quit now and get
these fish home," Jim said after a while. "It’s gonna take
some time to clean them all." Reluctantly Toby agreed, so they
loaded up and headed home. "Wait till Ma sees all these
fish," Toby said. "Yeah she sure will be surprised,"
Jim replied.
The truck had barely stopped when Toby jumped out and ran into the
house calling for his mother. He was practically pulling her out of
the house by the hand when they appeared moments later. "Look Ma.
Can you believe all these fish we caught?" he said. "My
Lord. Look at them all!" she said. "This will be enough to
last us practically through the whole winter." "We sure did
good, didn’t we Ma?" Toby asked. "You certainly did Toby.
You certainly did," she replied. Molly went back into the house
to get some bowls to put the fillets in, and Jim went into the shed to
get his knives and cutting board to begin cleaning the fish. When he
returned, Toby was still standing on the back bumper of the truck
marveling over the fish. When Jim got near him, he smiled at his
father and said, "We sure did good today Pa, but I can’t wait
to see how we do tomorrow!"
