47. Henrik
FORTY-SEVEN
HENRIK
There’s something different about tonight. I’ve been feeling restless for days and I can’t figure out why. My body feels like it’s on high alert, waiting for something to happen.
While Derrik cooks dinner and the rest of the crew clean up, I take the opportunity to get some air.
In the morning, we’ll be heading east to drop our last hundred pots.
Throttling down, I put the Brina in neutral.
When we’re no longer moving, I step out of the wheelhouse, exhausted. It feels good to stretch my legs.
Resting against the rail, I close my eyes and greedily suck sea air deep into my lungs.
The smooth, cool air is like a direct hit of adrenaline to my brain.
My eyes fly open, and I feel revived and energized.
I roll my shoulders, breaking up some of the tension that has settled there over the last week.
Groaning, I stretch some aches from my body, then lean over the rail and stare into the dark sea swirling below.
Black and navy-blue waves topped with white, slap the sides of the boat.
As of now, the waves are tiny. Meteorologists are calling for rough and stormy seas starting tomorrow.
I have to decide if we should wait out the storm or if it will prove futile.
After a few minutes, I return to the warmth of the wheelhouse, and settle back in my captain’s chair.
Pulling up the current weather reports, I study the projected storm’s severity.
The forecasters have issued light sea spray warnings and light winds and seas.
My crew have been in worse before, but as I sit analyzing the data, I consider how effective we’ll be dropping pots.
“Dammit,” I grumble as I look at the anticipated path of the storm. It’s headed straight for the same grounds we are, and it’s expected to gather in intensity. In two days’ time, they’re projecting moderate sea spray and winds, and rough seas. My stomach twists as I come up with the game plan.
“Hey, Cap,” Kai says as he climbs the ladder. Looking up, I see his expression change when he notices the frown I feel etched in my face. Concerned, he asks, “What’s wrong, Henrik?
I sit back in my chair and blow out a big breath. “That storm’s coming in hard.”
His eyes go wide just as Edgar comes up behind him, chomping a piece of the bread Carina sent with us. Carina. Closing my eyes, I reevaluate my plan. What do I need to do to keep us all safe? The promises I made her weigh heavy on my shoulders.
Swallowing hard, I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out.
The wheelhouse remains quiet. I know I need to share my plan with them, but I’m nervous.
Can I keep them safe? Carina’s fears have made me more hypervigilant about safety.
I’ve always been safe before, but now I’m even more cognizant of my decisions and their consequences.
Steeling my spine, I remind myself that it’s my job, my responsibility.
A myriad of questions overwhelm my brain, and a dull ache appears at my temples.
Cramming my fingertips into the sensitive flesh.
I’m about to speak, when Edgar cuts in, mumbling with his mouth full, “Sorry I was late. I had to grab a slice of this delicious bread before it was gone.”
I wave him off and then click on the most recent weather report and read aloud.
“A new storm bringing an active weather pattern will hit the Bering Sea region tomorrow afternoon. This includes the possibility of high winds, moderate to high swells, and freezing spray.” I look over at Kai and Edgar. Both wear a look of concern.
Edgar swallows the last bite of his bread and then clears his throat. “Well, shit. That doesn’t sound good for us. What do you want to do?”
Rising from my chair, I walk to the front of the wheelhouse.
Collecting my thoughts, I stare out into the dark void before turning around.
“I was thinking about the forecaster’s prediction that this storm will worsen over the next few days.
Because it’s headed directly where I want to drop our last pots, I suggest we shorten our rest period and get back to work sooner than we intended. ”
Kai nods. “That’s a good idea. Hopefully, we can get in and out before it gets really bad.”
That’s the plan.
Edgar sits in the captain’s chair and pulls up the map. “It looks like the pots we’ve already dropped are on the edge of the storm.”
Grimacing, I admit, “Yeah, I saw that too.” I straighten up, feeling more confident with my plan now that Kai and Edgar seem to agree with me.
“We can drop the last hundred pots and then take an extended rest in calmer seas before heading back to our first strings to pull them in. I’m hoping by the time we reach those fishing grounds, the storm will have moved on. ”
“Safety first. Smart,” Edgar says.
“Always,” I reply.
Kai and Edgar head down to the bunks to tell the others the plan and to get a quick nap before another shift on the deck.
With the boat still in neutral, I head down to the galley to make a new pot of coffee. I’m going to need some caffeine to keep me alert once we reach our next fishing spot.
“Slobs,” I mutter under my breath as I see bread crumbs scattered all over the table.
A single butt end of the pumpkin streusel bread sits abandoned, so I grab it.
While the coffee percolates, the rich aroma of roasted beans gives me my first pick-me-up as I enjoy the piece of bread from Carina.
Once the coffee is done brewing, I pour a large cup and grab an apple before heading back to the wheelhouse.
During the crew’s rest, I keep myself busy with a workout and then radio Eirik to check in on the Emilie.
“FV Emilie. Do you copy? Over.”
Eirik’s tired, strained voice answers, “Hey, Henrik.”
“Hey, man. How are you?”
He barks a laugh. “Exhausted. You?”
“Same. How’s fishing?”
Eirik lets out a groan. “Don’t know. We just finished dropping our first hundred pots into a new area my dad was telling me about. So we’ll wait and see.”
“What’s your gut say?” I ask, because sometimes that’s the deciding factor in where we choose to fish.
Another bark of laughter comes across the line.
“Who the fuck knows? Last year, I relied too heavily on my gut and it almost ruined us. If you hadn’t shared the coordinates to the honey pot you discovered, I would have been screwed.
Speaking of honey pot. Why aren’t you fishing that again this year? ”
“I thought I would give it a year or two break. I’m trying two new spots I’ve never fished before. One is to the east of you, and the other is right in the storm’s path.”
“Oh, fuck. That storm sounds terrible. Have you dropped your pots in the storm zone yet?”
“Not yet,” I say, worry swirling in my stomach.
“I have my crew taking a small rest while we move there. I’m hoping we can get most of our last hundred pots in the water before the storm hits.
Once they’re all in, we plan to hightail out of the storm and make our way back to our first lines.
By then, they’ll have been soaking for over forty-eight hours, and I’m crossing my fingers they’ll be full. ”
“That’s smart.” His validation feels good.
Rolling my shoulders, I sit back in my chair, taking a moment to close my eyes.
In the surrounding silence, it’s easy for me to concentrate on the upcoming tasks.
Below deck, I hope my crew is resting, because finishing during a harsh storm is less than ideal.
Battling wind, the sea, and freezing rain while exerting yourself is no simple task; it’s almost impossible.
But that’s what crab fishing is. There are no guarantees.
You’re guessing where the crabs are. Using history, the knowledge you’ve gained, and your gut, you make your best estimation concerning their locations.
Eirik loudly coughs, breaking me from my thoughts. My eyes fly open as he continues to cough. “Are you okay, man?” This isn’t the time or place to get sick.
He coughs a few more times. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he rasps. “I was eating one of Amelia’s monster cookies and it went down the wrong pipe.”
“Wait, you have some of Mia’s cookies left over? How is that possible? You turn into the Cookie Monster whenever they’re near.”
He laughs. “That’s usually true, but I tried to do things differently this time. I’m rationing them out so they’ll last at least half the time we’re out here.”
“How many cookies did she give you?”
“She gave me two dozen. Why? How many did you get?” The more he speaks, the more defensive his tone.
I scratch my head because the math isn’t adding up. They have seven men on board, and we’ve already been at sea for well over a week. “Eirik, help me understand the math. If each one of you had one cookie per day, you would have been out of cookies several days ago.”
He laughs. “Soren is allergic to gluten.”
“Even excluding Soren, my math still works. At most, they should have only lasted four days. So I’ll ask again, how do you still have some?”
“They’re still around because I’m a smart cookie.” I growl, wanting an answer. “Okay, okay, grumpy. Take a chill pill. I still have cookies because I hid them from my crew.”
His answer doesn’t surprise me. He’s a fiend for Mia’s cookies. “You aren’t sharing them?”
He clicks his tongue. “Nope. Amelia gave them to me and said nothing about sharing. So, I’m not.”
“Did you do that with the bread Carina gave you?” I ask.
He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “What kind of monster do you think I am? No, I set the bread out for my crew to enjoy. They don’t even know about the cookies.”
“Well, I guess in a backward, batshit-crazy kind of way, that’s smart. Mia’s cookies are the best.”
He scoffs. “Too bad you aren’t as smart as me or your girlfriend.”