Dad said they settled into fishing and chumming (throwing chunks of fish overboard to attract predatory fish) while talking and having a good time together. One topic led to another, and soon they were swapping fishing lies, making each other laugh and generally enjoying each other's company. Such was their relationship.
While all this was going on they were catching fish. They pulled in a couple of mackerel that they tied with a rope to the gunwale. Their heads were in the water with most of their bodies high and dry. They were at the mouth of the St. Johns, so they had a shot at passing ocean fish as well as fish in the river. Those were the days when you didn't have to go offshore to find game fish like mackerel. But now, they were in a groove; they caught a lot and kept some. If the fish weren't big enough to feed at least four adults, they released them, so what was left was of pretty good size.
Here's where the story gets a bit muddled. It seems as though after they had three or four good-sized keepers tied to the gunwale, the blood in the water caught the attention of a hammerhead shark cruising nearby. Pretty soon it shot past the boat, taking a hunk of mackerel with it. Dad and Unc were stunned. They went to trying desperately to untie the fish from the cleats on the side of the boat before the shark came back for another round of sushi.
They weren't fast enough, though. The shark came back and took hold of one of their fish and, instead of biting off a chunk, it started diving with its mouth full. This caused the boat to nearly flip over (Did I mention Dad said this shark was nearly as long as our 1961 Chevrolet Impala?). Unc did the only thing he could do. He grabbed the hatchet he carried (for whacking sharks he'd caught on the head) and cut the line, leaving a big gouge in the side of the boat. The shark left with his meal, rope trailing behind, and the boat righted itself so violently both men had to hold on to keep from getting thrown overboard. Neither of them wanted to be in the water with that shark so close.
Shaken, they called it quits for the day, as they had been able to salvage a couple of their catch to take home. Unc was upset about the damage to the boat while Dad was just glad they were still alive. But on their way back they passed Unc's favorite oyster bed. Determined to make a good day out of this, they stopped and raked a croaker sack full of oysters. Now their spirits were higher.
On they came home where we were treated to multiple tellings (and versions) of the shark story. But we helped clean the fish and got the charcoal going. Soon the neighbors started showing up, and a full-on party was under way. They brought out the oysters to the delight of almost everyone (Ron and I thought that anything that looked like it belonged in our noses didn't belong on our plates.). That's when the real Unc showed up.
He went up to one of his neighbors with a fresh oyster and bet him $5.00 he couldn't eat it and keep it down for three minutes. Now, this guy had already knocked back almost a dozen of the slimy critters, so he took the bet, and down the hatch it went. Unc stood there and watched the man. The neighbor watched Unc. Finally, Unc said OK, you win, 'cause you're the third man that's eaten that oyster today. Uuurrpp!! Up came the oyster, and Unc got his five bucks.
At least that's the way Dad and Uncle Lester always told it.....
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