As I stared down into the water, looking for the fish, the sea began to bubble. And then I heard a roaring sound that seemed to be coming from underneath the boat. No matter what direction I looked, I saw the sea beginning to foam and chum.

"What's going on?" I cried.

The old man didn't say a word. He stopped reeling in his line and just sat there with a look of awe on his face.

The sea started rolling beneath us in a mighty turmoil, and I knew then with a terrible certainty that it wasn't the old man that had caught the Blood Sea Monster. It was the other way around.

"Cut the line!" I screamed. "Let it go!"

The old man seemed undecided. His desire for revenge fought with his desire for life.

The sea began to rage and the little boat was buffeted from wave to wave. And still the old man would not make up his mind. Was it his father he was thinking of? His brother? His sons? Or his poor, unfortunate wife? I didn't know what rooted him in place; I only knew that if he waited any longer, we would surely join his descendants in the darkness of death.

The roaring that I heard from underneath the sea grew even louder, and steam began to rise in a cloud, covering us like a shroud.

The cry of the beast and the enveloping whiteness seemed to finally shake the old man from his moorings. He reached for his knife, intending to cut the line. Except his hands were trembling and he fumbled with the knife, dropping it to the bottom of the boat.

At that moment the sea in front of the boat erupted in a mighty spray. Something hideous thrashed up out of the deep. I couldn't see very much of it because millions of gallons of blood-red water were running down off its massive body. Huge flapping wings made the wind blow so hard I could barely expel my own breathagainst its awesome force. I could see nothing else except Six Finger Fiske's huge, shiny metal hook caught between two massive teeth in the beast's otherwise dark, obscured face.