So, you want to be a charter boat captain?

If for whatever reason you think you want to be a charter boat captain, you may want to think again. Getting your captain’s license is the easy part. Just sign up for one of the many captain’s schools available and, if you have your own boat that you have been running for long enough to qualify for time on the water, you will pass the test, and the six-pack license is yours.

While the six-pack license is for uninspected boats that carry six or fewer passengers, you still need to have certain safety equipment. You’ll need the usual personal flotation devices for each person on board, with special ones for each child. Also, current dated flares, sound-signaling devices, the current Coast Guard-approved fire extinguisher and, in my opinion, an emergency position indicating radio beacon.

Now, let’s look at your boat. If you are going to charge people to go on your boat, they will expect to be comfortable. Do you have seating for six folks? Do you have a head? Do you have shelter for them to get inside out of bad weather? If not, then as a line from a famous movie said, “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

When I ran what I called EBB Tide Guide Service – EBB being my initials – I only carried four or five people at a time. I didn’t want to advertise as a charter boat and give the idea I could take six customers. That worked out well because I got two or three trips a week during the summer and one or two in the fall, giving me time to continue with my writing.

I already had a 24 Albemarle that could easily carry five, but was comfortable with four. Most of my trips were with one or two, and very rarely did I carry five.

On one memorable trip, I had five. I was talking to a gentleman who wanted to fish the next day. I told him to be at the dock at 6 a.m. He said there would be four total.

I was there at 5:30 and had the boat ready to go when they showed up at 6. Instead of four, there were five. One guy insisted on bringing his girlfriend. By the way, all of them were from Brooklyn, N.Y.

As we were going down the canal, a large boat pulled out of another marina, and I had to pull back to avoid hitting it. One of my passengers, who resembled Kobe Bryant, laid a cussing on the captain of that boat that brought tears to my eyes. That sort of set the tone for the day.

First, we trolled for Spanish mackerel and caught a few, but it was slow at best. Then, we moved to the croaker grounds and the catching improved for all except for one poor guy. He complained to me that something was wrong with his tackle. I took it from him, checked it out, put fresh bait on the hooks and dropped it back down. As soon as I felt two croaker on the hooks, I handed it back to him and he began to crank it in. That was all the Kobe guy needed. He laid into his friend for needing help to catch fish. The rest of the guys picked it up from there, and the things they called their buddy are not fit for publication in this newspaper.

Meanwhile, Kobe was directing all of his attention to the young lady. He tried to help her with her fishing tackle by standing behind her with his arms under her arms and raising them up and down as he claimed to help her crank in the fish. The fact that she was our fish-catching-impaired friend’s girlfriend didn’t bother Kobe one bit.

The reason we leave so early in the morning is because it gets very hot in Virginia Beach by early afternoon. One by one, the anglers began to find relief from the sun under my hardtop. The older gentleman who had made the reservation continued to fish. My big cooler was at least half full of croaker, but he said he wasn’t going to quit until it was full. I corrected him and said we were quitting at 1 p.m., full cooler or not.

We dropped the cooler off at the fish-cleaning station and got the party back to the marina by 2 p.m.