John watched in awe. The kid knew what he was doing.

“Got to make sure the leaders are short enough, so the hooks don’t get tangled,” Cooper said. “Seen some guys use beads or spinners on here to attract the fish. But we’re going old-school.”

“In truth, I fly-fish,” Gordon confessed. “It’s very different.”

“Yeah,” Cooper said. “I’ve always wanted to try that. But you,” he continued, working the hooks, “you go way out on the big boats when you do your research, don’t you?”

“Yes, but when I’m out on the ocean, I’m not deep-sea fishing,” he said with humor. “We’re out capturing seals and dolphins for research. But when you put it like that, for both, the goal is catch and release.”

“I’ve read some of your papers. Linnea gave them to me. You’re doing important work out there,” Cooper said. “Saving all this”—his arm stretched out over the water—“for the rest of us. For my part, thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” Gordon said modestly. “We’re all on the same side. The farther out you go in the ocean, the clearer it is that plastic has become the scourge of the planet. I’ve seen whales, dolphins, porpoises caught up in discarded fishing nets. It often results in animals starving or drowning. Ah, but the whales,” he said with feeling. “They’re strong and can sometimes break free of ropes. But they can also end up towing nets behind them for months. It’s a horrible death. Shameful. They’re some of the oldest, most majestic creatures on the planet. It does something to you.”

John took another swallow of water. This fishing trip was not meant for him to start admiring Gordon. Quite the opposite. He thought of the vintage poles that he’d staged on the dock as a joke. The joke had fallen flat. He’d never appreciated the wildlife research Gordon was involved in, all over the world. He was doing good on a grand scale. While John… He felt embarrassed now. He could see Linnea’s attraction to him all too clearly. Hell, he was starting to like the guy.

John smiled in a lame attempt to be more amiable. He clapped his hands. “Okay. Let’s get this show on the road. What are we using for bait, captain, my captain?”

“We have some in the cooler, but I thought we’d try catching our own,” Cooper said. Grabbing a white cast net from below the captain’s chair, he checked the small weights tied to the bottom of the net.

“Big fish like to eat little fish,” Gordon said to John. “Just a fun fact for you.”

“Cast net. Got it,” John said with a roll of his eyes. “It requires skill to throw, a little like a cowboy uses a lasso. Americans are good at that.”

Gordon was fascinated with the new technique, soaking it all in. John gave them room while he watched Cooper teaching Gordon how to cast a net and thought Cooper was proving himself to be a shining example of a lowcountry boy in his prime. Cooper coiled up the line and grabbed the throat of the net. First, he jostled it, making sure the weights were not tangled. Then, with the grace of an athlete, he shot out his right arm and released the net. It unfolded slowly, like a chrysanthemum opening, over the water, widening into a large circle and landing with a delicate splash.