Welcome Steemit Friends I invite you into my world for some horror and the power to overcome horror. It is a world of the spirit and the hidden abilities some people have that they find out and secretly use to the benefit of all of us. Written for Steemit. This is the second part of the Great Catch.

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The Dancer - Great Catch 5

“Swim to your Dad!” I yelled over and over again while I fed out the rope. The waves were huge for this little boat and I had to stay seated. The roiling waters crested with whitecaps, spray blown on the wind of the squall.

While a screaming and panicked Martha and Pete floundered maybe twenty feet apart, I saw that Roland checked the depth in the trough of a wave. It was only five feet deep and he yelled at the kids, “Calm! I am standing! Swim to me!”

Rog was lifted back up off the bed of the lake on the crest of a wave several times and the kids disappeared behind waves but he seemed to make progress and finally Martha and Pete tried to swim toward him. Slowly, with great effort their father and my two gran’kids moved together. First Rog grabbed Pete and calmed him down completely. They moved toward a swimming Martha and Rog grabbed her with his free hand.

With three life jackets while they held together even though the water was cold, they stayed together and upright. I pulled on the rope. Slowly, I pulled them to the boat. The waves were blown by the wind and I did not know the waves pushed the boat toward shore while I hauled on the line.

It was an effort pulling on all three but I managed it. Suddenly a wave broke. Maybe twenty feet from the boat, my family disappeared until the wave lifted me up. Rog had the kids to either side of him, one in each hand and he stood in the waste deep water of the trough.

“We’ll make it to shore from here!” Rog yelled over the wind. I nodded in response and then looked over my shoulder. The shore was maybe fifty yards away. Rog tried to untie the line and I could see he was cold. They all were freezing but they were walking toward shore now. Rog was able to untie the rope from around his waist. I pulled it in.

“Do you think you can drive the boat over to the berth and get the car?” Rog yelled. I nodded while I finished pulling in the rope. They continued to walk and I took a seat in the captain’s chair. The motor had not died so I gave it some gas and steered a clockwise 270 degree turn to make certain there was no chance of hitting them as they waded to the beach.

I watched over my shoulder every so often as they were knee deep, then ankle deep. Each time a wave approached I had to turn into the breaker. I moved out each time a little further from shore. Every time I crested a wave head, the bow slapped down and jarred me. I turned starboard, the right, and ran parallel for as long as I could before turning into the next wave.

It was a rough ride but in the trough I could see my gran’kids and their Dad were almost to the road. It was about two miles to the berth and the whole time I prayed; I gave thanks. I wasn’t worried about myself as I probably should have been when I pulled up to the berth and tied up the boat. My fish was still there on the floor in the net.

I shut off the motor and left the boat for my pickup. I drove faster than I should have and I met them walking about a mile and a half from the marina lot on the shore road. I had the truck heater on full and it was warming up inside when I pulled to a stop. I said as I jumped out,

“I am so thankful everyone is okay.” I hugged each one of them. They shivered near uncontrollably and could barely talk. “Great effort, Son,” I congratulated Rog many times.

I helped them to remove their life jackets and coats and then threw their life jackets and coats in the back of the truck. Everyone squeezed inside the cab and I raced them home. Rog had them take off their shirts while I drove and that helped them to warm. They started to talk while I drove and retold more than an adventure.

It was a survival story where their Dad was the hero. Rog surely was the hero that day and no one ever forgot it.

Mommy was out shopping when we arrived at the house. Everyone was fine and wrapped in dry clothes and blankets sipping soup. I went back and retrieved our gear and our fish, my fish especially. Mommy was back when I returned. It started to pour rain.

“Salmon is worth dying for…” I took the scolding from her and Ma who walked in the door with two bags of groceries. I was just glad all were alive and well. I knew we had pressed our luck and just nodded apologetically while I cleaned and cut up the fish.

As horrible as nearly losing two gran'kids was, Ma was kind enough to help me measure each fish and take shots with the Polaroid while I held them up. She even admitted, “There must be something to the way that kid dances.” I nodded.

“You don’t know the half of it dear I think I saw two of them.” That she didn’t accept at all. What a day.

Copyright:
Written for Steemit: Copyright © 2017 Jeff Kubitz - The Dancer - et al. All Rights Reserved. Steemit.com/steemit/@jeff-kubitz

Oh, this happened to me when I was seven and I believe it was a little farther out from this exact same spot. My father saved my cousin Jackie and me. We didn't catch salmon but that's a fishing story isn't it.