"He might not want to go again after this trip," Ng said, joking.

Before leaving, Ng tossed his cast net a couple of times and deposited several dozen pinfish in the livewell to supplement the whole, frozen herring in the coolers.

"You ready to roll, John?" Ng said, not really asking, and with that he eased the boat out of its slip.

The twin four-stroke Yamaha outboards buzzed like bulbous sewing machines as we headed for Beaufort Inlet. After clearing the inlet, we had a bumpy two-hour ride in 2- to 3-foot seas to the fishing grounds. (For the uninitiated, "seas" are measured from crest to trough, so 2-foot seas consist of 4-foot waves or swells. They can test your sea legs and make your breakfast dance.)

"Normally, we start grouper fishing 15 to 16 miles from the beach and work our way out," Ng said over the outboards and wind, "but I had a good report about this area, so that's why we're here."

At about 8:30 a.m., Ng slowed and began studying his depth-finder, looking for the right combination of depth, bottom structure and baitfish, much like a freshwater bass angler would do.

After cruising around a bit, Ng liked what he saw and anchored. Three rods were rigged up, and he and Lee took the two with electric reels. Ng handed me a rod with a standard Penn reel with a handle.

"I just want you to see what it's like cranking one up with a standard reel," Ng said with the wry smile of someone sending a youngster out on a snipe hunt.

The tackle was imposing. The rods were 5 1/2- or 6-foot stand-up rods. The reels were spooled with 130-pound-test braided TUF line. The leader on the dropper rigs was 150-pound-test monofilament. Hooks were 9/0 Mustad hooks.

Ng popped open a box of frozen herring and cut several of the 10-inch fish in half to bait the two-hook bottom rigs. We free-spooled our rigs -- weighted with 16-ounce bank sinkers -- to the bottom some 140 feet down.

In short order we were all hooked up. Ng and Lee worked their fish with the help of the electric reels while I pumped and wound my grouper up with the conventional reel. I have heard anglers decry electric reels as "cheating," but they're no more felonious than an outboard is when compared to oars. They're simply the right tool for the job, and this 10-pounder would be my last grouper hauled up with the hand crank.

About the time we boated that one, the bottom fell out.

We had known the rain was coming from watching an angry thunderhead and listening to the chatter of VHF radio. Still, when it hit in earnest, I felt like Gilligan on the S.S. Minnow. Ng and Lee weren't fazed and continued fishing. Donning rain gear, I did the same.

Within an hour, the front had moved on and so had we a couple of times, always looking for the right combination of factors. At one spot, we switched rigs, using smaller hooks and squid for bait, and caught silver snapper (knobbed porgies) one or two at the time on every drop, like bream from a pond dock.

We switched the 16-ounce weights for 20-ouncers because of the Gulf Stream's current, and, the next time I dropped down, a 20-pound red grouper hit.

Because grouper are notorious for diving back into the rocks and hanging up rigs, I put my back into it and pumped the fish off the bottom, gaining line with the rod and using the electric reel to spool it. Imagine a largemouth bass on steroids 140 feet beneath the boat.

About five minutes later, Ng gaffed the 20-pounder. After removing the hook, he measured it for a Sea Grant survey he was participating in and the fish was dropped into the fish box loaded with ice.

Ng added a couple of buckets of seawater to produce an "ice bath" slush that would keep the fish fresh.

"It takes a little more effort," he said, "but the fish taste better."

We kept moving during the afternoon, picking up when Ng would announce, "This isn't it," and then dropping our 2-pound rigs with the broomstick-like boat rods and plugged-in reels at a new location.

Ng thought the fish was slow, but it didn't seem that way with 10- to 20-pound groupers coming over the gunwale with regularity.

At one point, a small school of dolphin (mahi-mahi) cruised by the boat, and we boated two of them using cut squid drifted behind the transom.

At 5:15, we dropped on a spot and all hooked up at once, laughing as we worked the fish to the surface.

After Ng gaffed my fish, I slid my fingers under its gill plate to lift it. Mistake. Groupers have sharp gill rakers, and a bloody pinkie finger was the result, joining the nicks and cuts from hooks, fins and other lessons of the day.

Lee set a hook and announced "This one has shoulders!" and a fight was on. I cleared my line and watched as Lee battled some bottom denizen. It turned out to be a juvenile tiger shark, about 5 feet long and sporting dark bars on its sides unlike the familiar sand tiger seen in aquariums. Ng leaned over the gunwale released the beast. We added several more grouper before Ng ordered lines up, retrieved the anchor and pointed the big Grady north to home.

Lee, who also has a home in Florida and fishes for grouper there, was impressed with the outing.

"It was fantastic," he said. "It's been a great day. Anthony is the best. I've grouper-fished for a long time, but I've learned there is a tremendous opportunity for grouper off this coast if you know what you're doing."

Back at the dock, the fish box yielded 262 pounds of grouper, which were trucked to a fish house for processing. Three weary but happy anglers shook hands and agreed to do it another time.

Fish scales, slime, blood and bits of baitfish flecked my skin and clothes; my lower back and forearms were stiff and knotted. It had been a long time since I felt that good.

Staff writer Mike Zlotnicki can be reached at 829-4518 or mikez@newsobserver.com