"No problem!" Futt yelled enthusiastically. "Mel - come on up here!" and the two of them climbed up to the bow, which gradually came down (just in time for me to swerve around a buoy I'd have otherwise hit dead on). At first this apparent design flaw concerned me, but Futt pointed out logically enough that usually on a boat the size of a 21, you take a couple buddies anyway, so just have 'em sit on the bow when you start out.
The Tautog took the bay's chop pretty well, but my partner wasn't impressed. "Not the driest boat I've ever been in," Shtupner said as he pushed water off his face; like the rest of us, he was completely soaked. But what open boat does offer a bone-dry ride in a sharp, 1-foot chop? The bone-jarring pounding occurred only while under way, and except for that, this Tautog impressed me with one of the best rides of any hull in its class.
Pushed to the 5,200 redline, the Tautog hit just over 20 mph. If it weren't for the slow speed, this would be as quick as any 21-footer I've been on. I would like to see a larger fuel tank; at 20 gallons, the Tautog 21 offers a maximum range of only 30 miles. But with a few portable tanks or a drum strapped to the deck, she'd have all the distance any canyon fisherman could ever want.
When drifting, the broad hull rides abeam to amidships with a roll moment of two minutes in a beam sea, even though it always comes stern-to with passengers athwartships or amidships.
The Tautog backs down like a charm, though I was surprised at how quickly the cockpit filled almost to the gunwales after I accidentally slammed the throttle down full in reverse. I'd like to see little arrows pointing forward and backward on top of the throttle lever to help remind the helmsman which way to push it.
No 21-foot hull raises fish better than this one. Within minutes of lines out, our small spoons had been found by some feisty snapper blues, and we boated several of the tough 2-pounders.
This exciting stand-up action gave me a chance to assess the Tautog's design as a fishing machine. The cockpit had so much room that we were able to maneuver around Shtupner, who'd fallen fast asleep on the cockpit deck. When things slowed, I figured the bluefish had gone deep, so I tied on a heavy 4-ounce jig. I would like to see thicker acrylic on the big center-console window, since I found this one shattered all too easily when I slammed my jig into it on the first back-cast.
You can tell the Tautog has been designed by fishermen for fishermen: It's capable of carrying up to 40 rods, according to Futt. He explained that the two bungee cords hanging from the bow railing on each side of the boat can accommodate up to 20 rods each. I'd like to see at least a couple rod holders on gunwales or somewhere in the boat, but beyond that, I've never tested a boat with better rod storage.
The single fish box in the bow is so large it could store a human adult. I know this because Shtupner left the cockpit deck after a bluefish flopped onto his face, and he crawled into the fish box. I'd like to see a drainage system of some sort, although Futt's feeling is that all one need do is "sprinkle a little baking soda in the fish box - then you don't need no overboard drain."