Authors Note:
Welcome to Part 4. If you need to catch up follow the links below:
Part 1: Fisher Berry Part 1
Part 2: Fisher Berry Part 2
Part 3: Fisher Berry Part 3
Now you can listen to Part 4 or read it below!
Please share my Substack with someone today!
IF you are so inclined, please consider a free or paid subscription, it goes a long way to support these efforts!
Listen Here:
Read Here:
The rising sun peeked between the horizon and the thick dark clouds gathering overhead. A few thin braids of light managed to skim the surface of the sea. Heavy winds forced its will upon the rickety vessel, but the exhausting night was over. Fisher managed to steer the Reggio Emilia to the edge of Georges Bank.
Sam stretched his arm and yawned as he entered the wheel house. He cleared his throat as he glanced at the GPS. “We’re in Georges Bank. Looks like you had no problem steering last night.” His tone was upbeat and calm. “I know you could use some sleep as well, but first we need to cast the pots.”
Fisher’s eyelids were like boulders. “Cast pots? Now?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah.”
Fisher pointed to the sky. “Do you see the clouds out there?”
Sam glanced out the Cabin’s little window. “Yeah, I see them.”
“Sam, we’re the only ones here. I saw ships leaving the area last night. All the commercial vessels are gone. I think that’s the message we received from your broken radio. I think we should turn around?”
Sam looked across the sea at the darkening clouds. Even the sun had gone away. A sneaky look entered his eyes. “Wait. What? You mean we’re the only ones here? The fishing will be perfect. Let’s cast our pots so they can soak for a while. It won’t take long. After that, I’ll get us out of here while you sleep.”
Fisher exhaled. “I don’t kn…”
“Excellent,” Sam said, and took the wheel “I’ll get the boat into position while you prepare the pots.”
Fisher exited the wheelhouse. Cold gusts whipped from the west. Fisher pulled a wool hat over his head and pulled one of the heavy pots from storage. He filled a bait bag, tied it into the pot, and slid the contraption off the back of the boat. The trailing rope with steel carabiner raced along the deck, bounced, and stuck Fisher in the knee. Cold pain resonated through his entire body.
The intercom crackled with Sam’s judgmental voice. “Mind the ropes. I warned you about them.”
Lightning jumped from cloud to cloud with brilliant white energy. Thunder exploded and resonated in Fisher’s head. Fisher’s heavy breath filled his lungs with damp, salty air as he hoisted the final pot into the water. A wave broke across the deck, and Fisher grabbed the guard rail to keep on his feet.
The sky opened and rain cascaded down as if from a waterfall. Another wave pounded the Reggio Emilia. Water raced across the deck, pushing Fisher over. He reached out, grabbed the first thing he could find, a rope, and held on. The skin on his palms peeled away as he gripped the rope tighter and tighter. If he let go now, he’d certainly be washed overboard.
“Fisher!” Sam called.
Sam stood over Fisher with arm extended. Fisher released his grip on the rope and reached for Sam’s arm. He missed it and tried again. This time he managed to connect with Sam’s hand and pulled himself upright. “Thanks,” Fisher said. “You got here fast.”
Sam’s grip was sturdy and his beard dripped water. “It’s nothing.”
Fisher stabilized himself and looked sternly at Sam. He wanted to trust him. “The waves are hittin’ us port side.”
“I know. Let’s get inside.”
They ran into the wheelhouse and Sam faced the Reggio Emilia into the waves. He opened a compartment and pulled out a life jacket. “Put this on.”
Fisher pulled it over his shoulders. “What about you?”
“I, uh, only got one.”
“Sam…”
“Look. I’ve been through worse.”
“As a captain?”
“What difference does that make? I’ll keep ya safe.”
“Are we leaving?”
Sam licked his lips. “Yeah, it’s time. I just want to check one of the pots.”
“But we just dropped them. There’s no way…”
“Not our pot, Fisher.” Sam turned and pointed out the plexiglas window.
“What?
“One of theirs,” Sam said, directing his eyes to the bobbing buoy of a commercial ship. “I just want to see if there are any bugs in ‘em, that’s all.”
Fisher squeezed his hand into a fist. “Are you serious?”
“This is why your here, isn’t it?” Sam said. “A little taste of life outside college. Look what you’ll miss when ya sit in that big old executive chair.” Sam pretended to type rapidly on a computer. “Is that what you want? Huh?” Sam mimicked Fisher’s voice. “Our numbers are down this quarter, sir. I think our overhead needs to be reduced by one point five percent in order to improve our EBITA. Come on, man. Live for god’s sake. Yeah, there’s a storm; and yeah, it’s rough. Feel that rain on your face. Listen to that wind howl through your ears. Let the cold crisp your skin. Just let it happen, Fisher. Embrace the bad things in life and don’t let go until it becomes a part of you. Let it define who you become. Let every moment linger and melt into your being, ‘cause soon you won’t be able to distinguish the difference between comfort and despair because you’re grateful for either. That’s where you want to be. Don’t be scared of it. The only thing you should fear is a frightened soul, because it will suck the life out of you faster than death ever could.”
Sam moved to the wheel and steered the boat toward one of the commercial ship’s buoys. “Since no one is around, let’s take a wee peek, shall we?”
Fisher found the gaff in the corner of the wheelhouse and held it in his blistered hand. “This breaks all the rules of fishing etiquette.”
Sam laughed. “If a text book could talk, that’s what it would say.” He jabbed Fisher lightly in the arm. “Of course it breaks the rules. Don’t spoil the fun. We’ll put the trap back.” He pointed to the aft deck. “What do ya say? Do ya wanna take your position and get ready to pull one?”
Fisher didn’t answer.
Sam’s adventurous green eyes flashed. “Look, if ya really want to leave…”
“Just one, right?”
Sam smiled. “Just one. Now get out there.”
As if orchestrated in advance, clouds spiraled together in unison and hitched a ride with the surly winds. Waves were large enough to break in the middle of the sea. Everyone’s heard of a Nor’easter, but few witness its wrath. “Fine, Sam. I’ll haul it in,”
“That’s my Fisher!” Sam pumped his fists and positioned the Reggio Emilia.
Rain pounded Fisher’s face like thin sharp needles. When he blocked it on one side, it came in from the other. The boat rocked with the waves and he decided to lay on the deck and reach with his gaff. With his patient eye, he snagged a yellow and green buoy. He hoisted the rope onto the walker until it clicked. He engaged the pulley’s motor, and the trap emerged from the deep like an ancient discovery. It was teeming with lobster.
“Look at that!” Sam called, as he came out of the cabin “We’ve hit the mother lode!”
Fisher forgot about the weather and jumped into the air. “Unbelievable! Now what?”
“Bring it on deck.”
The commercial pot was a lot lighter than their wooden ones, and Fisher reeled it in with ease. Sam pulled it onto the deck. “I’ll give you the honors,” Sam said.
Fisher pulled thick rubber gloves over his ice-hardened fingers and opened the trap. He pulled out a large bug. Its claws flailed about in desperation.
“It’s a keeper,” Sam said.
The lobster pinched Fisher’s thumb with its claw. Even with a heavy rubber glove on, the pinch hurt bad. “But we’re not keepin’ ‘em, right?”
A devious smile found its way across Sam’s face. “I only promised to return the traps. I didn’t say anything about the bugs inside of ‘em.” He opened the storage tank, and with his bare hands, took hold of the lobster. He banded its claws and dropped it into the tank. “Hand me the next one, please.”
Fisher handed him the rest of the lobsters. Once finished, Sam returned to the wheelhouse and Fisher returned the empty pot to the sea.
“One more?” Sam’s voice echoed over the intercom.
Fisher hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours now. He pried his eyes open and wiped storm water from his shoulders. He didn’t care. “Okay. One more.”
End of Part 4