No fish was prized more on Daufuskie than speckled sea trout. As the days shortened and the water chilled, the hard-fighting, tasty-eating fish would swim up into the creeks and marshes around the island.
Most folks on the island didn’t have boats, so we would stake our spots on the shore, often around old dock pilings, and cast our lines baited with shrimp. I can remember watching every twitch of the line as the sun set and the tide rose. Someone down the bank would call out, “I go