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TROY GOES TO HALIFAX storybook for ages 5-8

Story ID:4856
Written by:Richard Laurent. Provencher (bio, contact, other stories)
Organization:Retired
Story type:Story
Location:Truro Nova Scotia Canada
Year:2009
Person:Richard & Esther Provencher
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Richard & Esther Provencher
81 Queen Street, Unit 6, Truro, Nova Scotia
Canada B2N 2B2 Phone (902) 897-2344
E-mail: richardprov1@netscape.net

A Storybook for ages 5-8
Word Count = 771



TROY GOES TO HALIFAX
By Richard and Esther Provencher


“Let’s go fishing for mackerel this Saturday,” Dad said to his son, Troy. “Imagine being miles out on the ocean. I could help you catch the biggest one of your life.”

“Okay,” Troy answered. “But, only if I catch it myself.”

Saturday morning finally arrived! He could barely wait as they drove the one hundred kilometers from Truro, to Halifax, their destination.

As they crossed the MacDonald Bridge, Troy’s eyes feasted on sleek ships below.

“They’re from the Royal Canadian Navy,” Dad explained.

“What size boat are we going on?” Troy asked.

“You’ll see,” Dad answered. Water Street ended at a parking lot beside the waterfront, where people were milling about. “I’m going to catch a monster fish,” Troy told everyone.

Father and son paid for tickets, then headed along the walkway to their boat. “Our fishing boat is a Cape Islander built in the Village of Chelsea,” Dad said.

Troy read, “THE PUFFIN” in large letters on the side. Dad helped Troy climb aboard the forty-foot boat. And they sat together under the extended cabin roof.

“It’s built like this, in case of rain,” Dad explained.

Ten more people came aboard. Then chugging loudly, the Puffin headed towards the Atlantic Ocean. From here, the MacDonald Bridge was a rainbow of steel behind them.

The Puffin’s 195 HP motor continued to ‘CHUGG’ along.

The wind whipped across his face, as he leaned against Dad for warmth. The Atlantic Ocean stretched far in the distance, the wind loud in Troy’s ears. Suddenly, there was silence as the motor’s ‘chug-chugging’ stopped.

The Captain yelled, “Time to fish! Everyone scrambled for a good spot on deck. “We’re now seven miles from shore,” he added.

“It’s about 25 feet deep here,” he said. “Drop your sinker to the bottom, then raise the line up two feet. Swing your rod up quickly, then down slowly. If you feel anything, jerk on the line and…”

“…Reel them in quickly,” Dad interrupted.

There was a heavy sinker on the end of each line, with three sharp hooks tied about eight inches apart. Each had a red and orange feather.

“Now watch me,” Troy’s dad said excitedly. He swung his line over the side, landing with a mighty “KERSPLASH!”

Moments later Dad hauled up his first catch. Three mackerel fish flipped back and forth over the watery surface, before being swung into the boat.

“ATTABOY DAD!” Troy shouted. “My turn.”

Yelling came from other fishermen as their filled Mackerel lines dropped on the deck. The Captain rushed around removing fish from hooks.

Smaller sized fish were returned to the ocean. Sinkers with feathery hooks were sent back for more fish. Blue fish, Mackerel, Pollock and a Cod were quickly filleted. Then placed in a tub and covered with crushed ice.

Troy was being too ‘fussy’ to keep any. “Not this one,” he kept saying. “No, not that one either.” It had to be the largest one caught today.

The Captain moved the boat to several new positions, until they were in sixty feet of water, nine miles from land.

Dad was pleased with his son. Not once did he have an upset stomach. The 40-foot, twelve-ton boat was like a cork on the ocean, swaying with each wave.

“You must have natural sea legs,” Dad said. “But, don’t be so particular, Troy. You should keep at least one fish.”

“Nope,” the stubborn boy answered. “I only want a humongous one, bigger than any one else’s.” He kept comparing the size of each catch, to others.

“Now that Codfish must be the one you’re planning to keep,” Dad said patiently.

Troy studied his newly hooked fish. It had huge lips and wide fins sticking from a brownish body.

“Hurry up and make a decision,” Dad said. “The hook didn’t cause any damage, but he can’t stay out of water too long.”

Everyone stared at Troy, as he held his prize. The boy remembered telling everyone he wouldn’t come home until he caught the largest fish. He wished he hadn’t said that.

Troy slowly walked to the edge of the boat, shut his eyes and gently released the Codfish. Dad came and stood beside him. Troy knew he’d understand.

Just then, the boat captain announced loudly, “Pull your lines in! Time to head back!”

Troy’s eyes misted as he watched their boat plow through whitecaps. “Imagine, not even one teensy fish to show mom,” he said.

“She’ll understand son,” Dad said quietly.

Clouds were puffy-white in the sky. And the sun was warm on Troy’s face, as he turned to his Dad.

“Okay if we try again next week?” he asked.

* * *

© Richard & Esther Provencher 2009
All Rights Reserved