Disclaimer: The author stands behind this story as being true and accurate. However, in the course of SI's standard fact-checking procedures we have been unable to verify beyond reasonable doubt the existence of the marlin that the author calls Oh Magnífica. A source we were able to contact in the Azores commented: "It is a strange tale, indeed, but very, very fishy."
The Englishmen who appear in the story also expressed reservations. "I can assure you that none of this happened." said Ian Kingsley when reached at his home outside London. "I never saw the fish," said Nigel Kirk. "There is no fish," said Laurence Hornsby.
Confronted with the denials, the author responded. "They've taken a vow of silence. I don't blame them. They want Oh Magnífica for themselves."
Nevertheless, we are compelled to present this work as a piece of fiction.
At 6:15 in the evening, 400 yards off shore from the Faial airport, just as the sea and sky were squeezing the orange and puce out of the sun and splashing those colors all over the horizon, Ian Kingsley's stinger line snapped—zzzappppp—signaling that a fish had hit his lure.
The sound, somewhere between the cracking of a whip and the snapping of an ordinary quarter-inch rubber band, sent four drowsy, diesel-drugged fishermen lurching into action.
"Out of the road!"