THE STORM CELLS were relentless. Our crew was about 80 miles southeast of Cape May, New Jersey, fishing a tournament. The weather was supposed to improve—eventually. Visibility was near zero all morning. The rain fell so hard, it was deafening at times. Thunder came consistently in hull-shaking waves. ¶ But it was the lightning that got our attention. The bolts were frequent, turning the black sky into day, briefly, before dissipating into oblivion. The atmosphere was electric, literally. ¶ A massive burst of purple and orange struck the ocean, mere feet from our 50-footer’s bow. Engine alarms blared. Electronics went wonky. ¶ But the engines were running, and everyone was safe. We restarted each diesel, one at a time. Alarms got cleared. We rebooted the electronics, and everything came back.…
