Coastal Outdoors

U-Boat was the best sheepshead fisherman I’ve ever known. He was relentless in his pursuit of the tasty, tigerstriped baitstealers. This is a chronicle of my exposure to jigging and how U-Boat got his name.

Our story began in 1977, in Charleston, South Carolina. My first job out of college was setting up a retail sales program for a seafood company on Sullivans Island. My new bride, Penny, was still in school. She would come early to pick me up from work and do some crabbing. We were interested in catching enough seafood to save money on groceries. We would often meet U-Boat after work on the jetties near Fort Moultrie on the southern end of Sullivans Island. U-Boat had just gotten out of the navy and lived in Charleston also. The Vietnam War was over and the Cold War arms race was in full swing. Our escalation in fishing gear soon rivaled that of the superpowers’ quest for weapons of mass destruction.

We started that summer fishing with light spinning gear. The bait of choice was fiddler crabs. A live fiddler crab next to the rocks is irresistible to the wily sheepshead. Fiddler crabs are abundant on the oyster banks in the salt marshes and we could easily catch enough in a few minutes of fishing.

The first week or two was marked by stolen bait, cut off line and very few fish. We were operating a feedlot for sheepshead on those rocks. One of the old-timers who frequented the jetty first told me the fundamental truth about sheepshead fishing: “If you can feel the bite, you have already lost the fish. You have to set the hook before he bites.” The problem with cut-offs was solved with a length of steel leader. The first day I showed up with a steel leader, U-Boat gave me a long, hard look. Clearly he considered this to be outside the rules and his disapproving looks continued all afternoon as I put more fish in our sack than he had. U-Boat was a great big guy and his looks could be discomfiting. Clearly, just as Fort Moultrie fired the first shots of the Civil War, I had just fired a shot across the bow of U-Boat from the same location.

The next day, just as I suspected, U-Boat showed up with steel leader. He was so proud of himself I was almost reluctant to destroy him. The old-timer had given me another tip, pointing out that it is hard to set the hook with the bait held on the bottom with a weight. He advised that the way to do it was to “jiggle” the crab up and down gently next to the rocks and as soon as you feel any resistance, set the hook hard. As U-Boat was smugly tying on his steel leader I casually leaned over and retrieved from the rocks my 8-foot surfcasting rod. He froze still as a hunting dog on point as I gently probed the rocks with a live fiddler crab. Within seconds the first of several sheepshead was in the old mesh grapefruit bag we used as a fish sack.

“ This Jiggin’ works pretty well,” I commented. “You want to try my rod? I don’t think yours is long enough”. He declined. Shoulders slumped, he took on an air of grim determination and proceeded to fish every nook and cranny of the jetty. Despite numerous bites, he failed to hook up on a single fish. To add insult to injury, I offered him some fish to take home since he’d had a bad day. With great dignity he declined my kind offer and withdrew gracefully. You know, it doesn’t get much better than that.

The next afternoon we had one of those afternoon thunderstorms that Charleston is famous for. I had to wait until the following Monday to see what U-boat’s next move would be. We arrived at the jetty before U-Boat and Penny was soon busy gaining the confidence of a gang of blue crabs with a chicken neck tied to a piece of cord. As soon as a crab decided she was his friend and followed her offering in to the shallow water, she would abuse that newfound friendship with a net and deposit him in the bucket. We ate lots of crab. I heard U-Boat’s truck pull up but did not turn around to look. Penny asked if I thought U-Boat was a pole-vaulter. I was telling her that he could be a linebacker but I didn’t think he was built for pole vaulting when I saw him emerge from the parking area carrying a HUGE bamboo pole. The thin end was as big around as my thumb! It was at least a dozen feet long. A steel leader ran the length of the pole, wrapped every foot or so with electrical tape. The terminal tackle was six feet of leader with a hook and small split shot.

U-Boat carefully pierced the corner of the fiddler crab’s shell with the hook and strode out onto the rocks. A few minutes of jigging produced the first of many sheepshead he would catch that evening. His style was to jig the pole out at arms length until the first hint of resistance. He did not stop at setting the hook. In one fluid motion he continued the arc, bringing the helpless fish out of the water in a blast of spray designed to let me know he had scored once again. His massive shoulders and thigh-sized wrists let him fish in a manner I could not match.

After an hour if this I knew I was whipped. His bag was full and I had but a single fish. It was approaching low tide and the water raced out of the Charleston Harbor. U-Boat had moved to the north side of the end of the jetty where an eddy appeared during this tide that frequently held fish. I heard his grunt as he set the hook yet again. The splashing noise told me he had really gotten a big one and there was no way I was going to turn around and give him the satisfaction of showing off his catch.

When I heard the cry of “ OH-MY-GOD-HELP-HIM!” coming from shore, I turned to look and U-Boat was not there. His fish sack was there but he was nowhere to be seen. Movement caught my eye and I saw U-boat’s arm extended straight up out of the water like a greasy periscope moving across the tide, headed toward Europe. As I watched he finally got a foothold on one of the many sandbars and his head emerged. Now the battle with the unseen opponent at the end of his line was entered in earnest. Slowly he gained a little bit at a time as he worked his way to shore. The battle was not pretty. It was all brute strength and no finesse. It would make an Orvis-attired fly rod type throw up. It was awesome. This was no sheepshead. It was the biggest drum I’d ever seen. As he dragged this fish out of the water I said, “ Man! You were going through that water like a U-Boat.” The name stuck.

U-boat’s rod had about as much flex as a broom handle, but the principle is correct. To jig around the rocks and pilings you need stout tackle and steel leader. Native baits such as fiddler crabs and sand fleas will produce results- sometimes more than you bargained for.

About the Author: Laird owns a marketing consulting firm and lives in Cullowhee North Carolina with his wife,Penny, three daughters, six dogs, three cats, two horses and a pig. He is an avid outdoorsman and fishes from North Carolina to the Keys.