A break in the monotony of commercial fishing--our steering went out suddenly, yanking the boat to the left, before coming to a dead stop. The wheel had frozen, locked in place by who knows what. Mom and I ran out and jumped in the cockpit to pull in the gear before the steel wires wrapped themselves around each other...or worst case scenario, the rudder. The lines hung straight down, weighted by sixty pound leads. Line after line came in, first the deep, then the floats, and I placed each lure in neat lines to be put out again later. They looked like Christmas decorations of red, yellow, and sliver. We floated, helplessly, our 46-foot troller swaying in the trough, as dad raced around with a dim flashlight in one hand, trying to find the cause in
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