A Deepwater Ghost Story

By Capt. Damon Sacco

(This article was first published in the September/October 2015 issue of The Journal)

There is nothing more mysterious than the ocean after dark.

The secrets of the sea are rallied by the night sky and our wandering curiosity. An already unfamiliar place becomes an even more uncertain domain, one that even the saltiest of sea-goers don’t take for granted.

Despite this notion, spending a night offshore of the New England coast is common practice for diehard tuna fishermen. Big fish enjoy a late night/early morning snack, so it pays to be there ahead of time to help serve up the buffet.

When the giant bluefin tuna show in the Great South Channel each fall, the offshore grounds can become the offshore boat parade. When the night bite at the canyons heats up, an obscure faraway patch of deep blue sea can morph into a colorful circus of spreade lights in no time. Last year we counted more than 300 boats one night at the Tails.

Whether you’re deploying baits, or simply spending the night to conserve fuel and gain an early start the next day, safety should always be your first priority. There are ghosts out there … in all shapes and sizes, and sometimes these ghosts are big and mean!

This is a story about a close encounter that took place 10 years ago in October on the Castafari.

It was a typical trip like most others back then chasing giant bluefin in October, a long day spent on the water soaking baits in a scattered fleet of boats … waiting. The big bluefin were there. We knew that. How could we not. Fish started blasting out of the ocean like missiles all around us in