It's not often that you hear about someone catching 50 sailfish in one day. In Guatemala or Costa Rica, maybe. But in Florida, this kind of figure sounds fantastic, as in fantasy.

So, I was amazed to hear that a few boats plying waters off Daytona Beach were releasing sails by the dozens this fall. During one especially memorable day, the top boat managed to catch 50. All on rigged baits. The count rocked my boat as it did to everyone else plugged into the spindlebeak hotline.

In talking to some of the captains, I learned one secret to getting all those strikes-besides finding the fish-seems to be a special teaser setup called a dredge. The dredge is rigged and deployed to resemble a pod of baitfish, with the goal of attracting hungry sails to your boat. There are many platforms from which to fish these tools, from big sportfishing boats down to 20-foot center consoles.

Dredges could be the hot new fish-raising method for all of Florida's sailfish waters.

To get the scoop on how the Daytona guys do it, I traveled to the charterboat docks at Ponce Inlet to join Capt. David Grubbs aboard Heavy Hitter. Grubbs was the first skipper to dial into that hot October bite, tallying 41 releases on the first day, without another boat around.

Within minutes of reaching the fishing grounds, I got a firsthand look at how effective a dredge can be. It's a tool destined to earn a place in most bluewater fishermen's bags of tricks.

Peeking over the transom, I clearly saw mate Robbie Grubbs' point. The group of de-boned silver mullet on his dredge teaser did resemble a live bait pod paddlin' an enticing sailfish rhythm.

A couple of sails must have thought so, too. A pair of them charged the teaser before Grubbs could step away from the transom to get the trolling spread in the water. So he did what any quick-thinking mate would do-grabbed a rod and fed one of the inquisitive spindlebeaks quick. He dropped a small ballyhoo into the propwash, stopping the bait a hair behind and above the last mullet in the dredge.

"Pretty work," cousin David praised from the bridge. One of the sails slipped in, lipped the offering and sped away on a 90-degree heading off the transom. Robbie freespooled the lever-drag 25-pound reel, gave a short three-count and locked the lever into strike position. Angler Jerry Stanbury scrambled for the chair, making it just in time for the hand-off. Then the line came tight. I squinted into a rising sun, followed the hi-vis green mono as it ripped across the surface and waited for the show to begin.

Follow the line, I motioned to Stanbury's friends Kathryn Healy and Dave "Hootie" Spengler. Both caught the lime-green mono trail just as the sail blasted through the steep seas to begin a series of contortions and tailwalks. Defying Newton's Law of Gravity, the fish somehow ripped off about a hundred yards of line while still upside down, then shifted into greyhound gear and stopped abruptly. Elegantly standing on its broad sickle tail, the fish reversed directions dancing halfway back to the boat-in seconds.

Robbie broke the spell, asking, "Who wants this one?" Hootie showed no hesitation, taking the handoff as the first sail's mirror image broke into a tailwalking performance of its own.

"Keep it tight, keep it tight. Don't give them any slack line," came the echo from helm and cockpit. Luckily, the two sails split paths with the first fish blazing for the horizon and Hootie's sail making tracks for the transom. Hootie stayed with it, collecting line at the rate of who knows how many feet per second while his fish charged the boat. Following a series of gunnel-side thrashes, Robbie grabbed the 80-pound mono leader and wired the sail close, unhooking it and sending the still-lit spindlebeak on its way in a flash. "Let's go get Jerry's fish," he called. Stanbury poured on the heat while the skipper parted the ocean surface in rapid reverse, allowing the fisherman to regain lost line. Right at boatside, the sail jumped, shook its head viciously and spit the hook seconds after Robbie touched the leader. Hot on the bite and hot on the release, just the way we like 'em. For our Heavy Hitter crew, these fish were only the beginning, two of many sails we would spar with on this October day.

The dredge had proven itself again.

I knew that all the boats trolling some 45 miles off Ponce Inlet were not scoring double-digit release numbers. The reason? "They don't pull our secret weapon," said Robbie Grubbs, pointing to the top, go-to tool in Heavy Hitter's cache of trolling hardware-dredge teasers.

Dredges seem to work best when sailfish are "balling" bait pods. They mimic what's happening below the surface-tightly packed bait schools running hard, trying to avoid becoming the next morsels on the spindlebeak menu.

The first time you witness any multi-bait, 3-D dredge in motion, you will realize why Daytona skippers and countless others up and down Florida's East Coast choose this teaser when billfish enter the trolling picture. Dredges raise fish plain and simple-particularly sails and white marlin. Towing a dredge is like positioning your own private bait pod within feet of your boat's transom, a win-win proposition for deadbait trollers searching bluewater breaks for bills anywhere.

Dredges, for want of a better description, sort of resemble an umbrella minus the cloth, with either real or rubber fish dangling from the spines. Most have two tiers and carry 12 to 24 natural or soft-plastic baits with one or two trailing down the middle behind the main group. That's about all the hardware any teaser reel, mate or angler can handle weight-wise. Most mates compare pulling in a dredge to wiring a 25-pound block of concrete. So it's best to slow down while bringing them aboard to clean off weeds or stow them out of the way during the heat of battle.