We arrived early in the morning. The sun was up but hadn’t been very long. At the Galveston end of the causeway we turned left onto the road that led to a bait camp that sat next to the railroad tracks.
There were four of us. My sister, her friend Clara Faye, myself, and Mr. C, Clara Faye’s father. While three of us unloaded the fishing tackle Mr. C went over to the office and rented a boat. He also bought a goodly amount of live shrimp for bait.
We all got in the boat, and let me tell you it was a pathetic excuse for a boat, and after Mr. C attached the motor to the back, we cast off and headed out into the bay. We didn’t really go very far since he wanted to fish near the railroad causeway.
He found a spot that he thought looked good and he told my sister to drop the anchor. She picked up the rope and when she found the anchor it turned out to be a round hunk of cement with a hole in it. The rope went through the hole and was secured with a big knot. Like I said, it wasn’t much of a boat.
Mr. C baited his hook and that was when we noticed that all the live shrimp were in fact dead. Looked like they had been dead for several days. Anyway he got ready to cast and that was when we discovered that when Mr. C casts everybody else in the boat ducks as low as they can.
We had been fishing for awhile when my sister noticed her feet were getting wet. It turned out that the boat was made out of aluminum and a couple of rivets on the bottom were missing so the owner of the bait camp had stuffed pieces of a waxed paper soda cup in them to stop the leaks. Clara Faye wasn’t fishing so she had sat there and pulled the paper out, not realizing that would let the water in. We had to quickly get busy and start bailing.
Then I happened to notice that our cement anchor wasn’t holding, probably because the rope was too short. We had drifted into the middle of the Intercoastal Canal and there was a tugboat with some barges heading our direction. I pointed that out to Mr. C and he freaked. He threw down his rod and reel and grabbed the starter rope to fire up the outboard motor. It didn’t start. He kept pulling on it and adjusting the choke. Finally it started and we got out of the way, just in time.
He decided we’d been fishing long enough and we headed back to the bait camp. We hadn’t caught a single fish. Hadn’t even had any nibbles.
When we got back to the dock Mr. C told the owner about the leaks and the owner acted surprised. Said that was one of her best boats.
After we got back in the car Mr. C said if that was one of the best boats he darn sure couldn’t imagine what the bad ones were like. Needless to say we never went to that bait camp again.