OVER AND UNDER
Unless you have fished with me on board Royal Star, or on Royal Polaris in my earlier days, you're probably unaware of 
my dedication to the capture of our quarry — namely giant yellowfin tuna. Over the years my actions in the heat of battle have been the genesis of many stories in the long-range fishing scene.
Not being the type who revels in special recognition for performances I consider consistent with my responsibilities, I rarely mention even the extreme events that admittedly get my blood up and running. At the risk of compromising my humility, here's a tale from a few years back that resulted in an epic achievement for Royal Star angler Bill Grimsley.
The setting was Clarion Island on a Revillagigedo tuna-tagging adventure in April 2009. It had already been a phenomenal voyage with hundreds of yellowfin tuna in the 75- to 150-pound class tagged and released. But, aside from a few 200-pound fish, the bona fide giants had eluded us.
On the second-to-last morning that all changed.
Big blowouts surrounded Royal Star as we drifted along the lee. Gentle breezes held the kites perfectly aloft which occasionally produced magnificent eruptions on the surface live baits.
The sardine and chunk fishing anglers were also faring well, keeping three to five big fish going at all times. Actually I should clarify that of the fish hooked, at least half were the ubiquitous brown (silky) sharks that are so prevalent throughout the Revilla chain. 
A portion of the sharks were of the Galapagos, pelagic white tip, and tiger varieties but the schooling silkies were dominant. It was sharky, as it so often is in this domain.
The pesky sharks threatened just about every tuna our anglers hooked either by creating a potentially disastrous tangle or by ganging up and eating them. The additional demands of hand scooping and hauling each individual fish on board to accomplish the scientific objectives of the voyage had us rockin'.
Veteran Royal Star angler Bill Grimsley had one of those “fish of a lifetime” on the end of his line easily identified by a huge, long interval, throbbing tail beat, and sheer weight. Bill's fish was getting close on the stern and it was heated — numerous other lines were precariously nearby, and the crafty old bastard kept trying to swim into the rudders and wheels.
My guys were on it, and honestly I couldn't watch too close. Bill has been my close friend forever — I knew I would have too much emotion invested if I was directly involved. The guys had it under control, with 15-year year veteran Capt. Brian Sims leading the team.
Then it happened, as it inevitably does sometimes when even the most adept professionals are at hand. The giant, both wily and panicked by numerous sharks nipping at its heels, utilized a moment created by several hooked fish getting together to slide beneath the hull. With unimaginable strain on the 130-pound line, the stakes as high as can be and zero time to waste, the solution was clear — to me anyway.
