51. Henrik
FIFTY-ONE
HENRIK
The storm that hit the Bering Sea closely rivaled the one I have raging within me. I’m still so angry and confused.
Edgar spoke with our parents and Mia to tell them we’re safe. Although I’ll admit it to no one, I was relieved knowing Mia would tell Carina, because even though she hurt me, she still has my heart.
I’d eavesdropped on Edgar’s call with Mia, overhearing her inform him that Carina never accepted the job in Hawaii, and that she’s staying in Kodiak.
Do I care? No. Yes, dammit.
Days later, after the storm has passed and we’ve returned to our first string of pots, I finally allow myself to process that news, and a strange warmth covers my body.
Is it happiness? I don’t know. The previous few days had been dark and stormy, and I’d been consumed with anger.
Nothing else had registered. But now I’m feeling other things again.
Knowing she isn’t running off to Hawaii gives me enough peace to get out of bed and keep working.
Others rely on me to do my job and keep them safe.
Besides, until we get home, there isn’t much I can do about what happened.
I don’t know what will transpire between us when I get back to Kodiak, but I have to push it out of my mind and focus on what’s important in the here and now.
Picking up the radio, I tell the guys, “Ten minutes until we’re at our first string. Let’s get ready for some crab.”
“Hey, Cap,” Kai calls as he climbs up the ladder to the wheelhouse.
“Yeah?” I answer back, lining myself up with the pot coordinates.
While he pulls up the suspenders on his bibs, he says, “It’s looking nice out there right now. Any more storms on the horizon?”
I shake my head. “None that they’ve mentioned. It’s still slightly windy, and the seas are a tad choppy, but”—I pause and knock on my wooden desk— “it looks like a great day to pull pots.”
Kai laughs. “That it does.” He smiles before heading back to rally the crew.
I return the smile, even though he’s already gone.
It’s my first smile in days. Damn, that feels nice.
Ever since Carina pulled me out of the grumpy state I’d been living in, my eyes are open to how the world looks when you’re more optimistic than pessimistic.
I keep that knowledge to myself, but I like how it feels; more cheery and less gloomy.
“Henrik,” Edgar shouts.
“Yeah?”
Swish, swish. The familiar sounds of rain gear rubbing against rubber boots fill the wheelhouse as he lobs a question. “You good?”
My chest squeezes. Edgar and I don’t show emotion. But this check-in of sorts? This is how he shows he cares. “Yep. I’m solid,” I tell him. And that’s all we have to say.
After that, we all get to work.
The first pots make us a little nervous, but by lucky number seven, we see we’re on the crab.
Each pot is stuffed with at least fifty legal kings.
My crew fills the deck with cheers every time a pot is pulled from the deep.
By the end of the third string, the wind has died down, but the temperature has dropped.
I look out onto the deck and see the rosy cheeks and warm exhales of my crew.
During an hour break for dinner early in the evening, I look at the temperature and wince.
Fuck, that’s cold. Although it’s in the teens, the sunset over the sea lures me outside.
Dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a beanie, I brave the elements for a few moments of visual nirvana.
Alaskan winter sunsets are unmatched. The red, orange, yellow, and magenta appear brighter over the water than when you’re in town.
The colors reflect off the cresting white caps, creating a beautiful show.
When I’ve had my fill, and my fingers are ice cold, I head back into the warmth of the wheelhouse to move the boat over to our fourth string.
Once the sun has set and the crew finishes eating, they head back to the deck to harvest the next pots.
Other than our masthead light, we’re surrounded by complete darkness.
For the next five hours, the guys work tirelessly to bring in our last two strings and fill the boat’s tank.
I double-checked the weather report, and everything looks good.
My crew has worked hard. They’ve earned some rest before we move on to the next set of pots. I grab the radio as the guys are finishing securing the last pots. “Once you’re done tidying up, come inside and get something to eat and rest.”
Pointing the Brina toward our other strings, I pick up the radio to call Eirik and see how they’re doing.
Then I remember how I treated him. Hanging my head, I feel terrible.
Mia and Carina are the responsible parties; Eirik is just an innocent party, but I’m still mad.
Hearing about Hawaii from him instead of her wasn’t just upsetting for the obvious reasons but because it felt like a blow to my ego too.
My girlfriend wasn’t comfortable sharing what was going on in her life with me and then I heard it secondhand from my best friend.
“Derrik’s making steaks. Do you want one?” Kai hollers up at me from the galley.
Standing up from my chair, I notice I’m stiff.
Stretching my arms over my head. I answer back yes before dropping to the floor to pump out some pushups.
My arms feel weak since I’d missed a few boat workouts over the past few weeks.
Usually, I stayed on track, not letting myself get distracted.
But everything with Carina had done just that.
“Today is a new day,” I tell myself as I move on to crunches.
My muscles screamed. They were slower than normal, but I persisted, knowing it’d be worth it.
I stood up and checked the boat’s steering before I grabbed my resistance band.
Stepping into it, I put it right above my knees and started with squats.
After I’d finished those, I moved the band down to my ankles and did kickbacks.
James walked up the stairs with my steak dinner, just as I was about to start banded lunges.
“That smells incredible,” I said when he passed me.
He smiles. “Good thing Derrik cooked it, not me.”
I laughed. “Thanks for delivering it. I appreciate it.”
“Do you need anything else?” He asked as he was heading out.
I shook my head and smiled. Following dinner, Kai and Edgar worked out sleep coverage for me to log six hours to their ten.
It was the first sound sleep I’d had in days.
Pushing Carina out of my head had certainly made life easier.
If I had not heard she was staying in Kodiak, I never would have been able to compartmentalize my feelings.
With the next morning’s arrival, everything seemed fresh and new.
I put the Brina in neutral and headed to the galley to make the crew breakfast. After I was done and nursing a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee, I returned to the hull ready to move to our next lines.
Once nine o’clock hit, it was time to get the crew up.
Grabbing the boat’s intercom, I hit the button to sound an alarm.
Boat alarm clock. When I finally heard grumbling and cursing, I spoke.
“Rise and shine fellas. It’s time to get to work.
Breakfast’s hot and ready in the galley.
” I had made a large batch of scrambled eggs.
Throwing in cheese, onions, peppers, and reindeer sausage, I had found in the fridge.
Twenty minutes later, I laughed when they all stumbled onto the deck looking like newborn foals trying to walk.
Frowns covered their scruffy faces, making me smile harder.
I was in a good mood and nothing is going to change that.
And what do they have to look grouchy about?
They’d gotten ten hours of sleep and had breakfast waiting for them when they woke up.
Those are ideal conditions for fishing in the Bering Sea.
“Five minutes to first pot,” I call, and chuckle while watching their frowns turn to panic.
They all scoot around the deck, getting what they need to haul the first pot.
Edgar throws the hook, snagging the buoy line easily.
Once threaded through the feeder, the lift raises the heavy cage to the surface.
“Hell yeah,” Edgar shouts as the eight-hundred-plus pound pot swings over the bulwark.
Excitement floods through my veins as I turn around to see how many crabs cause that response from my brother. Once the pot is opened, huge king crabs topple out. Kai shakes the pot, making sure it’s empty. Then he moves it across the deck to James so he can begin the stacking process.
With the crab tallied, Edgar yells into the radio, “Sixty-five.” I pump my fists. This is even better than the last spot. If this continues, we’ll fill our tanks and head into Dutch to our processor days earlier than I projected.
As the hours pass, we don’t get another pot stuffed with sixty-five crabs, but each one holds a respectable number, and I’m not complaining. By early evening, things are still hot, but I see the crew needs a break. With two strings left, I get on the intercom.
“Hey, guys, great work. How about you head in for dinner and a break before we tackle our last forty pots?” Everyone gives me a thumbs up. Once James has secured the last pot recovered, they head inside. After they’ve stripped out of their rain gear, Kai and Edgar come up to the wheelhouse.
“Cap,” Kai says. “How are the numbers looking?”
“Great! If our last two strings are as good as the other three, we should have a full tank.”
Edgar shakes my shoulders, making a whooping sound, and I bark out a laugh.
“How long of a break do you want to take before we start on those last strings?” Kai asks.
I open the National Weather Service and check the weather. “It looks like they’re predicting another storm starting midday tomorrow, so if we do a brief rest of about three hours, then hit it hard, we’ll hopefully avoid it.”