5. Henrik #2
Plucking pots takes substantially longer, as safety is a major concern.
The rogue waves are incessant and the fluidity at which my crew move along the deck doing their various tasks is disjointed.
Because the sea is stormy, James, an experienced crabber, is on top of the stack securing pots.
That leaves Derrik and our greenhorn, Roy, sorting.
During the past four hours of sorting, Roy has stepped up.
He only uses the crab gauge to verify the catches that are borderline legal.
Even though he’s more efficient, it still takes a ridiculous amount of time because the pots are so full.
It’s a problem that every crabber wants.
The number of crabs we’re catching is unbelievable, and I want to keep going, but as I look out onto the deck, I see my crew is saturated and exhausted.
I turn around and bring the intercom to my chapped lips.
“Five more pots on this line. We’ll clean house and when we’re done with them we’ll head to calmer waters for a break. ”
“What’d he say?” James hollers from atop the stacks. Belly crawling to the edge, he listens for one of his deck mates to answer him. Roy jogs over, nearly losing his footing on the icy deck. Not again.
“Oh, shit,” I yell. As if in slow motion, I push up from my chair and extend my hand out, wishing I could save him from colliding with something. Luck must be on his side because he catches himself, and other than looking scared, he’s fine.
Once the guys finish the line, they grab mallets and sledgehammers to break the ice buildup off the boat.
They work tirelessly, swinging and smashing, sending enormous blocks into the sea.
Once a decent amount is no longer weighing down the ship, they drag themselves below deck for some R&R while I analyze the best place to ride out the storm.
According to weather reports, the storm is expected to last another four hours.
A break now will give the guys time to warm up, fill their bellies, and take a good nap.
A little while later, the scent of grilled burgers fills the wheelhouse, reminding me how long it’s been since I last ate. My stomach growls, and I lick my lips.
“Cap,” Kai hollers up the ladder.
“Yeah?” I answer.
“Want a burger or two? Derrik is cooking.” Thank goodness for deckhands who like to cook.
“I’ll take two, please. And can you send Roy up?”
“Ooh. Someone’s in trouble,” Edgar teases. Being my brother, he knows no one is in trouble. He can tell by the sound of my voice.
I hear Roy hustling up the stairs. “Captain. You wanted to see me?”
Turning to him, I notice his skin’s pale, and he looks frightened.
I attempt a smile, although those are foreign to my face.
My lips tip up, and I’m sure if I could see my reflection, I’d resemble one of those creepy clown masks from Halloween.
“Roy. I just wanted to check in with you. How do you think things are going?”
He swallows hard and grimaces. “I’m trying my best, sir. I know I’m slow at everything. I’m just trying to be safe and learn everything as I go.”
I nod. “I agree. You’re hardworking, and it shows.
Yes, as a greenhorn, there’s much to learn on a boat.
But you’ve stepped up to the plate and accepted the challenge.
I called you in here to tell you I see how hard you’re working and that it’s appreciated.
” He nods but stands there, stiff as a board, looking uncertain. His stomach growls.
Gruffly, I wave him off, saying, “Now, go get warm clothes on, eat, and nap. We still have two lines of pots we need to pull.”
After a brief rest and a review of the weather, we’re moving on to our fourth string. The waves are calmer, and the trip to the pots is surprisingly smooth, considering what it had been like earlier. When we’re twenty minutes out, I call down into the galley. “Rise and shine. Time to work.”
Loud grumbling fills the air.
Edgar pops up with a cup of coffee in his hand. “Is that for me?” I ask, reaching for it.
Pulling it away, he laughs. “In your dreams. Get your own.”
I stand up from my chair and cross the wheelhouse. “Fine. Watch the boat. I’ll be back in a few.”
While in the galley getting myself a fresh cup of coffee, a bottle of water, and an apple, I root around to see if I can find more of Mia’s cookies. I can’t, so I settle for a granola bar.
“Hey, Cap. How’s the weather out there?” Kai asks as he approaches the coat rack to grab his gear.
I run my hand through my hair. “I don’t want to jinx things, but at the moment, it’s nice. The storm has passed and the skies are clear. There’s no rain or wind, and the seas are smooth.”
“Let’s just hope it stays like that while we pull the rest of our pots.”
I nod, then head back up to the helm.
Edgar is relaxing in my chair with his feet kicked up, playing a game on his phone, totally oblivious.
Reaching forward, I knock his feet down and growl, “I’m back.
Get back to work. Slacker.” His laughter fills the wheelhouse, easing some of the tightness I’ve felt in my chest since I couldn’t reach Eirik.
Pulling my cell phone from my pocket, I check that it’s not on silent.
It is, so I correct it. Looking at the screen, I see a missed text from him.
Eirik
In the storm, trying to pull pots.
“Thank fuck.” Dropping into my chair, I let out a ragged breath. I’d been so stressed over his safety. Opening the text, a smile forms on my lips.
Setting my phone down, I turn and see my crew on the deck, ready to pull pots. Thankfulness warms my chest as I pull the intercom to my lips. “Get ready for the first pot.”
Familiar noises float through my window, pumping me up.
It’s everything from the sound of the hook sailing through the air, the splash of it hitting the water, Edgar grunting as he pulls in the line, to the grinding of the hydraulic lift as it pulls the crab pot to the surface.
This is my life. Hope fills me as the pot bounces off the side of the boat before it reaches the deck.
Before I can see for myself, the hoots and hollers of my crew celebrating a full pot fill my ears.
This is the great side of crabbing. The crew’s cheers and energetic conversation warms this grump’s well-protected heart.
We all know it’s a big gamble being a crab fisherman on the Bering Sea.
With no guarantee or with seasons being canceled, your livelihood is on the line from year to year.
The fact we’re pulling large numbers in every pot is incredibly exciting and something worth celebrating.
Unfortunately, that has to wait as we still have so many pots we need to pull.
Our afternoon and evening go smoothly, and our numbers are still unbelievable.
From my quick math, if things continue to go well with our first hundred pots, our tank should be about half full. If our remaining strings are solid, we’ll be heading to our processor sooner than we thought.