We caught about 15 sharks (every single one released unharmed

) and a big jack cravelle.
We broke off numerous yellowfin throughout the day, we were in battles but lost the war. About 4 we decided to call it. We secured the deck, and everyone bundled up for the 2.5-hour ride back. I'm talking base layer, performance shirt, hoodie, zip up fleece and a carheart over my Ohio hunting bibs. Beanie cap, face mask and gloves. We get settled in and throttle up. About 2 miles later, a blowup right off the bow. WTH, worth one more cast. We scramble to grab rods, unsecure them, and get to the bow at 40 mph. As we pull up, we all three cast and no sooner than it hit the water, boom, three fish on. Who knows what, but we're in a pickle. You can't chase fish with a triple, mine busts off quick. The other two stay pinned and luckily make their initial 100-foot runs screaming drag in a similar direction, so we keep it tight and move forward.
There were 5 of us on the boat trading the rod as we wore out. Everyone was bundled up and overheating so we're all stripping layers, the deck is a mess of shit. We manage to get everything clear and we settle in. Make no mistake, the fish owns the fight. If he wants to peel 50 feet of drag, he does it. It's literally a game of feet. You take one and she takes 10. Constant pressure as close to you can get to the 25lb drag mark without pulling out line yourself by pulling the rod harder. You get worn out quickly and need fresh arms and back on the rod.
If you're resting, the fish is resting. Trade off and have a fresh guy put the power in him. This is obviously a diminishing game as everyone gets worn down and 15 minutes on the rod the first round quickly becomes 5 before you're yelling "somebody on this rod". Normally, you'd be happy to hop on a rod, but after round 3, you're not recovered, but maybe 20%, and dreading it. Even off the rod, it takes a team, and you just hop back into another role. Someone at the helm is driving based on the shouted commands of the person on the rod, "Reverse! Neutral!" "Spin to port!" Forward! Neutral!. Fighting the fish is equal parts rod work, reel work, and boat manueving. If you;re not on the rod you're helping, watching the line, grabbing the guy on the rod some water, wiping sweat out of eyes, standing by with a gaff at the ready, driving the boat. It's pure chaos and everyone does their part. There is no such thing as "I caught a yellowfin tuna" And we're doing it all with two fish on.
The fish peel off drag 150 feet straight down and pinwheel. They lie on their sides and use the side of their body to put weight on you. They become one giant fin. Naturally, this makes them do giant circles because they don't have vertical stability as an upright fish does. Those circles are bad with two fish on. Even on the opposite side of the boat they're going to cross. And if you don't feel it, every circle will be another wrap. With braid that's bad as it has zero abrasion resistance and will pop as easy as sewing thread. So as soon as you feel another line both guys on the rod have to meet. Frantically getting around the boat to eachother, touch the tips of the rod together and the twist will shoot up to the rod tips. Then you have to quickly figure out who needs to go over and who needs to go under. There's no handing the rod over and under; you have to do it like a messed-up game of Twister. 4 times we line wrapped.
After an hour, we finally saw color, not knowing until now if it was a tuna or a shark. It was two big tuna. Both again dove for the deep and we play the game again. At 1hr 20min the first to come up had gotten sharked. Which sounds like it would help, but now you have a 100lb body to get up, while a shark wants it.
The 2nd smaller fish, probably about 160 lbs, was still pinwheeling, and we just took that bull shark's dinner because the race is on. We're absolutely blowing our arms, shoulders, and lower backs out trading this rod every three minutes. Bursts of power and cranking. We finally got him up. I happened to be on the rod when we saw color. I handed the rod back to the guy who hooked him and grabbed a gaff. Two gaff men on each side of the rod. The fish is doing big 20-foot pinwheels about 10 feet deep. Each pass goes under the boat. As he goes under you have to lean way for out so the line doesn't rub, as he goes away is when you crank to get whatever you can by pulling his head up. After about 10 more he was close enough to gaff. "Next circle! Next circle! Then he would pull some drag. A few minutes later, he presented a perfect gaf shot, and I stuck him. Ole boy had three gaff hooks in him quicker than the last biscuit at a pirate convention.
We quickly bled and brained them, got them on ice, washed and secured the deck, and everyone found their layers again. It was dark and we had a 2.5hr run back in the dark. In Garmin we trust. We had favorable seas and were able to run 47mph. 38 gal per hour burn rate be dammed we are the victors!