“Okay, boys,” Akins asked, “what’s your desire?”
Jack and Billy Joe looked at each other and they both knew that they had no disagreement.
“To let us take a canoe and go fishing one day.” Jack put it into words.
They received a general round of applause for their request.
“I’ll beat that,” Coach Jackson promised. “With Mr. Akin’s approval, I’ll drive you boys into town and buy you whatever tackle you need.”
Another round of applause.
“You have my approval,” Mr. Akins declared. “Now let’s get started paddling across that lake.”
Coach Jackson did as he had promised and took the boys into Morton. At the hardware store, they selected pre-prepared rigs with line, hooks, sinkers and bobbers with a few extra hooks and two limber cane poles. The only difference was, the hardware store had heard the story and wouldn’t let them pay for anything.
They couldn’t go fishing the next day because newspaper reporters had asked permission to interview them. The
Clarion Ledger
out of Jackson and the
Laurel Leader Call
from Laurel were going to be there. Director Harris asked the boys to do it as a special favor to him.
They did and again, they were heroes.
But the best part was Wednesday when they set off in their canoe with a big can of worms, a lunch packed by the mess hall and a promise by the cooks to fry any fish they caught.
The whole camp turned out to see them paddle away from the dock. “Ain’t this sumthin’?” Billy Joe said. They felt like kings.
Chapter Ten
The Trotline Fishermen
The summer camp worked out better than Jack and Billy Joe had planned. Now they were scheming a way to get their parents to let them go trotline fishing overnight on Leaf River. The summer wouldn’t last all that much longer and they wanted to cram as much into it as they could. The boys hadn’t picked a date to go trotlining but it had to be soon.
Jack slowly ate his breakfast, thinking about what he and Billy Joe had planned for today. He wanted to go dig some worms and catch some crickets for a fishing trip. Billy Joe just wanted to be lazy and sit around doing nothing. It was always Jack who made sure that they had everything they needed for their fishing and bicycle rides.
“Jack,” Jack’s mother said with a strange tone.
“Yes, ma’am?” Jack responded.
“Do you think that you and Billy Joe could take care of yourselves for a couple of days while we and Billy Joe’s parents are away?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am, we can,” Jack replied. “Where y’all goin’?”
“Red has asked us all to go down to his cabin on the Pascagoula River at Wilkerson’s Ferry,” she explained. “We thought it might be a nice getaway if you and Billy Joe can take care of yourselves for two days.”
“Uncle Red didn’t say nothing ’bout me and Billy Joe goin’, huh?”
“Well, Jack, this is just for adults to get away for a while,” she explained. “I am sure that Red will take you and Billy Joe at a later time.”
“Y’all just gonna have two days laughin’ and joking, I reckon,” Jack said as if to explain it to somebody unseen.
“That’s about it, Jack. We don’t do this often. As a matter of fact, I don’t remember us ever getting’ away without you, do you?”
“No, ma’am, I reckon not.”
“I’ll leave all your favorite things to eat in the refrigerator and if you need more you can go to the store and charge it.”
“Yes, ma’am, I don’t see any trouble with us eatin’ good but what are we gonna do with ourselves for two days?” Two days seemed like a long time to Jack to be without his parents.
“I have a feeling you have something you want to do,” she said, looking at him under her eyebrows in that way she did when she was asking, “What have you got up your sleeve now?”
“I was just wondering if you would let us ride our bikes out to the Leaf River to do some trotline fishing?” Jack asked, holding his breath for an answer.
“I don’t know. Let me talk to your daddy and see what he says.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said just as his father entered from the garage.
Jack and his mother watched him as he came in and sat at the breakfast table.
“What?” he asked. “The way y’all are lookin’ at me I feel like I’m gonna be the main course in our next meal.”
Jack waited for his mother to explain.
“I just asked Jack if he and Billy Joe could take care of themselves while we go to Red’s fishing camp,” she began. “Jack asked if he and Billy Joe could ride their bikes out to Leaf River to set trotlines,” she explained.
“Where did you plan to go to do this trotline fishing and what boat are you gonna use?” he asked. “You gotta have a boat. You can’t trotline from the bank.”
“Mr. Myrick has told us we can use his boat any time he’s not usin’ it. He is a pulpwood hauler for Masonite and works ever day except Sunday.”
“That will work out fine,” Jack’s father said as if the proposition had been approved. “We will be leaving Tuesday and coming back Friday afternoon. Red can’t get away on the weekends for some reason.”
“You are sayin’ it’s okay then?” she asked, not having heard a real answer.
“I don’t see why not,” he said. “These boys pretty much take care of themselves every day anyhow. They just come home to sleep and eat.” He laughed.
She didn’t laugh. This was a serious matter to her. Jack knew that she would have a million questions and make that many rules before the time ever came.
“What y’all gonna do for trotlines?” Jack’s father asked.
“We made up three hundrec-fifty-foot trotlines about a year ago when we were supposed to go with Red to the Pascagoula. He couldn’t get away so we had to cancel that trip,” Jack reminded him.
“Oh yes, Red still owes you a fishing trip,” Jack’s father said with a crooked smile. “I’ll have to remind him.”
“Anyway,” Jack continued, “we still have those. All we gotta do is catch the bait.”
“What kinda bait you gonna use?”
“I don’t know,” Jack said with a puzzled look. “We ain’t talked about that yet.”
“Jack, don’t say ‘ain’t,’” his mother said.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
“What I always did was use chicken guts for the first baiting. After it gets dark you can seine minnows off a sandbar. At night, minnows go into the shallows of the sandbars to get away from the bigger fish.”
“Where we gonna get chicken guts?” Jack wondered out loud.
“Go down to Denson Morris’ butcher shop and ask him to save you some. I know he will. Denson likes to trotline fish too.”
“Yes, sir,” Jack replied.
“Also,” Jack’s father continued, “take that machete that’s out in the garage. I keep it really sharp and in its scabbard. It will come in handy for a lot of things.”
“Jack’s gonna have more than he can haul on his bicycle if you keep goin’” Jack’s mother cautioned her husband.,
“No, ma’am, I make a place for everything,” Jack explained.
“What if one of you gets hurt?” Jack’s mother asked.
“There’s always somebody at one of the houses out on the main road. They’ll help us if we need it. They all got cars and would take us into town if we needed to go,” Jack assured.
Jack smiled inwardly. Without a specific “yes” answer, he knew he still had an “okay” and it was the best kind. It left his parents feeling not quite as guilty as a “yes” would have but it still was an endorsement of his fishing trip.
Jack motioned his dad to come into the living room so that his mother couldn’t hear.
“What’cha need?” his father asked.
“What do we do if that Lige Garner shows up?” Jack asked in a soft tone so his mother couldn’t hear.
“I don’t think he will show up but if he does, just lock yourself in the house and ring the telephone operator. It will be either Nell or Mede. Ask them to find the deputy sheriff and send him down here as soon as she can. If she gives you any trouble about it, tell her that your mom and dad are out of town and this is what we told you to do.”
There was a “knock, knock, knock” from the front door.
“That’s Billy Joe,” Jack declared as he walked in that direction.
Opening the door, Jack said, “It’s late. Where you been?”
“It ain’t late and you know where I been.” Billy Joe protested the inference. “What you want me to do, sleep on your front porch?”
“Nah. I was just commentin’ that you sleep late like a baby,” Jack said, not knowing the first one up in most households with one is the baby.
“Your momma and daddy talk to you about their going to Red’s fishing camp with them next week?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, and I’m sho’ gonna miss Momma’s cooking while they’re gone,” Billy Joe replied.
“You always look at the dark side of everything,” Jack pointed out. “I asked my folks if we could go to the Leaf River trotline fishing and they said okay.”
“Yeah but, my folks ain’t gonna say that, I’m sure,” Billy Joe said with a frown.
“See, there you go again,” Jack said, proving his point. “You are looking at the bad side again.”
“Yeah, but you know as well as I do what she will say when I ask her.”
Jack grinned his best evil grin. “Not if my momma calls your momma and asks.”
Billy Joe’s face slowly turned to a grin too, a configuration not common to his countenance.
The boys discussed what Jack and his dad had talked about and they decided they had better go see Mr. Morris to get him to save them some chicken guts. They rode off on their bicycles toward downtown.
For the next few days, the boys made plans and changed them often as they thought of better ways to do everything.
The time came and went but it seemed to the boys to take forever. After Jack saw his folks off at the garage and they picked up Billy Joe’s parents in front of their house, Billy Joe raced to Jack’s house.
“It took you long enough to get here,” Jack scolded, not being able to resist the chance.
“Ain’t nobody coulda got here sooner,” Billy Joe mumbled, knowing there was nothing he could say to offset Jack’s remark.
“It’s already seven fifteen,” Jack pointed out. “Let’s get these bicycles loaded and go see Mr. Morris to get the chicken guts so we can get on the road,” Jack pushed.
The bicycles were a work of art when they were fully loaded. The boys had thought of everything they might need for eating and fishing. Their mothers had thought of extra clothes they would need on the trip and had insisted they pack them. They also made sure that each boy had a warm blanket they could roll up in on a warm sandbar and get some sleep.
At the market, Denson Morris had saved them chicken guts for their bait.
“I tell you what, boys,” he said. “I do a lot of trotline fishin’ myself and I find that chicken gizzards and hearts are the best for bait. Not only do those big catfish love them but they stay on the hook better than other guts.”
“Thank you, Mr. Morris,” Jack said. “We do appreciate it.”
“Any time, boys,” Morris responded. “Now, if you catch more catfish than you can eat, just remember to bring me a mess of ’em.”
“Yes, sir,” both boys responded and they pedaled off toward the river.
Excellent packing and tying on of equipment made the bicycles fairly easy to ride on the flat places. However, on any kind of a hill, pedaling became difficult.
When they reached Mr. Myrick’s house, they were pooped and needed a rest. To their surprise, when they knocked on Myrick’s door, he answered it. They had thought he would be out cutting pulp wood.
“Mornin’, boys,” he greeted them with a big smile. “What y’all doin’ out here so early?” As if he didn’t know.
“We thought you would be cuttin’ pulpwood and we could use your boat,” Jack replied.
“Y’all are welcome to use my boat anytime. I ain’t cuttin’ wood today ’cause my truck is broke down and in the shop. On a nice day like today, I need to be out there cuttin’. I decided that since I can’t, I wuz gonna rest this old body.”
“Yes sir, that’s a good idea,” Jack agreed. “It’s all right for us to use your boat for a couple of days, then?” Jack pressed.
“Yeah, y’all go ahead and I hope you catch a boat load. If catfish would sell in town, I’d be down there runnin’ a line or two myself,” Myrick said.
“Thank you, suh,” Jack said as they pushed off on their bicycles toward the river.
“Mr. Myrick outta go to the river himself to bathe in it,” Billy Joe noted.
“Now Billy Joe, that’s not a nice way to talk about Mr. Myrick after he just loaned us his boat.” Jack corrected.
“No, I reckon not but I could smell him clear out in the yard,” Billy Joe said. “I don’t believe he’s got runnin’ water in his house.”
Now off the road and on a two-rut trail leading into the swamps, the boys carefully rode their bicycles. Their senses became attuned to the dangers of the swamp. They didn’t think of them as dangers but they had spent so much time in the woods and swamps, they knew what to look for.
The piney woods changed into underbrush with all kinds of “trash trees” on both sides of the trail forming a canopy overhead, giving off a twinkling of light as they passed under it.
“It’ll be just around this next curve.” Jack broke the almost church-like mood.
The boys rode their bicycles up to the river’s edge, stopped and looked around.
“There ain’t no boat,” Billy Joe observed.
“Yeah, there is,” Jack corrected. “Look right yonder.” He pointed to a place at the water’s edge.
The boat could barely be seen under the water.
“Now who do you think woulda done that?” Billy Joe wondered.
“I think nature did that,” Jack replied, pointing at the tether line still tied up to a small tree. “That two days of rain we had last week must have filled it up and it sunk.”
“Yeah, I reckon you are right. Let’s get it outta there then. A boat full of water don’t do us no good.”
The two paddles for the boat were leaning against a stump where they had obviously been placed by someone. Jack picked up one of the paddles and thrashed the water with it.
“What you doin’ now?” Billy Joe asked.
“If there’s any snakes in this water around the boat, I wanna tell him I’m comin’ in and I want him to leave.”