Maybe it’s a “grander,” one of those 1,000-lb. blue marlins flying through these waters off the continental shelf, two hours out from Ocean City.

Fulton is one of five waitresses and bartenders from Buxy’s Salty Dog taking part in the Poor Girls Open, an annual deep-sea fishing tournament now in its 17th year.

A highlight of the sportfishing year in Ocean City, the August tournament is for a good cause: Profits go to breast cancer research.

As the only East Coast all-women tournament that anybody knows of, the Poor Girls has its own style. At last year’s registration, where representatives from 95 boats showed up, one group came in stilettos and pastel T-shirts: Heels and Reels.

Most deep-sea tournaments require participants to sign up for all three days, which means the cost can be $10,000 or more, including entry fees and fuel. Boats in the three-day Poor Girls Open, though, take part for only one day. Typical costs are $3,600.

Annie Buxbaum and her husband, owners of the Salty Dog, put up the money for Fulton and three other women who work at the Ocean City landmark as their annual employee outing.

“We wanted to try something new,” explains Buxbaum, who comes along, too.

None of the women has been in a tournament before. As Fulton, who got first crack at the rod by random selection, spins the reel and pulls, the other women gather around.

Deep-sea tournaments combine sport and gambling. Landing a monster fish can take hours, and the rule is that you can never let go of your rod.

And as for the gambling? Landing the biggest fish in any of the categories—tuna, mahi-mahi, or white or blue marlin—wins you the pot of prize money, which is more than $30,000 this year for marlin.

The fish on Fulton’s line is a marlin, judging by its strength as the captain runs the boat, forcing it to swim. Sometimes an angler pulls up a dead fish or one that dies soon—the fight has killed it.

But most are released back into the ocean. The fish that Mandie pulls up after 20 minutes is a giant, silvery-white marlin with a fin like a Spanish fan. It weighs in at 80 pounds. And then, with a splash, it’s gone.

The mahi-mahi caught second doesn’t fare so well. It goes into a built-in cooler at the end of the deck, where it flops around for a while, fighting its dinnertime destiny.

Lunch comes and goes, as do the hours spent without a telephone or email. Nappers take their places around the leather seats in the clear sun. The swells are eight to 10 feet high.

Each wave contains a thin ribbon of turquoise between the grey-green of the water and the white of the crest. Is the water different out here, or are we just looking at it longer?

Around 4 p.m., a rod bends into the telltale “U.” Buxbaum pulls in a 25-lb. white marlin.

It isn’t a great day, but a respectable one, says the captain’s attitude.

Later, it turns out that the five women hold first place for a few minutes on the dock—until, alas, a boat with better luck and bigger fish pulls in.

For more information on this year’s Poor Girls Open, which takes place Aug. 12-14, visit www.bahiamarina.com/tournament-pgo.cfm.

How Green Was My Galley

By Elizabeth MacBride

Most marinas sell Bonine tablets, a non-prescription medication that treats the symptoms of motion sickness. At the Bahia Marina, the store clerk advises me to take one tablet the night before and one the morning of the Poor Girls Open.

“If that doesn’t help,” he says simply, “nothing will.”

Apparently, nothing will.

It seems there’s a subset of the population—some people put it as high as 20 percent—that’s going to be in seasick hell in any kind of high water, no matter what steps they take to stave it off.

The only saving grace is that you probably know who you are: those of us who can’t read in the car, get dizzy on the third turn of a merry-go-round, and dread being in the plane circling the airport.

Until they invent a better Bonine, we need to keep our feet on the ground.