Mike Corey

He tries to go for the fish's gills, but it twists around and bites him.

Son of a bitch.

The rest of the crew is watching with delight.

Mike DiCapua is doubled over with laughter.

Hey, shut up, Mike.

Finally, Bob manages to kill the fish with a stab to its head.

It's got to be at least a 40-pounder, one of the biggest they've caught.

Bob guts it, a little haphazardly, and muscles it into a bin that's already stuffed with rockfish.

When they first arrived at Fairweather Ground a few days ago, it looked like another bust.

Just after they set their lines, a storm rolled in and they were forced to take shelter in a cove.

They left their lines behind, anchored in place with weights and marked by buoys, to let them soak, as the fishermen say.

A few days later, on January 29th, the weather forecast called for calmer seas, and they headed back out in search of their lines.

They found them around 10pm, but most of the fish on the hooks had been reduced to skeletons, picked clean by predators.

At that point, half the crew wanted to go home, including David Hanlon, who was battling seasickness, and Mike DiCapua, who felt sure this whole trip was a waste.

But Captain Morley insisted they try two shorter lines, less than a mile each, as a last-ditch effort.

They let them soak overnight, into the morning of January 30th.

And, to everyone's surprise, those lines have hit the jackpot.

Bob's never seen so many fish in his life.

Even the veteran fishermen seem giddy with their haul.

Each set of hooks, called a skate, is practically full.