I gripped my hands tight around the humming line and ignored the stinging pain of the salt water in my broken callouses. The days are starting to run together but you can’t get complacent out here. All it takes is one outgoing line to get looped around your ankle and you’ll be dragged down to the depths.
There’s only three of us, including the captain, on board the JezaBella, which everyone in town knows is named for the captain’s ex-wife.
When the doors pull shut on the drag net there’s no telling what you’ll haul on board. The dark brown water off the coast of the barrier islands doesn’t offer any hints. Everything is a guessing game beneath the surface.
“Swing her around Dax!” The captain’s tobacco scarred voice booms.
“Heads up Croak”, I said
Croaker shuffled to the side and peered at the heaping mass of suspended sea life.
“What do you see Croak?” the captain asked.
“Shramp” grumbled the barnacle of a man.
Croaker is a man of few words. From what I understand when he was a boy an outgoing line looped around his neck and crushed his vocal box. Despite sounding like a toad, he’s a decent guy. No one’s ever complained about his work ethic, and when it comes down to it, I know he’s got my back. Twice I’ve been cornered by some thugs at the docks after dark and Croak always shows up just in time to crack them in the temple. He’s weathered and lanky but tough as nails and can swing his fists like a framing hammer.
With a sudden whipping sound, the net released over the deck and thousands of wriggling thuds hit the wooden planks.
A haul like this was worth ignoring the weather signs. Red sky at morning sailor take warning. The sun rose like bloody murder today, but we didn’t turn back. The captain runs a democratic vessel and we voted to keep on pushing.
As we fell into the familiar task of separating the wheat from the tares, I notice something strange. A fully grown sheep head, which is a close cousin of the drum, was sticking an abnormally large tongue out at me.
I picked up the slimy fish and, in his attempt, to wriggle free his tongue dropped out of his mouth like an over ripe apple and hit the deck. Only it wasn’t a tongue. A pale white severed finger rolled in a half circle across the wooden planks.
“Guys look at this” I said
We’ve seen a lot of strange things pulled out of this murky water. An albino tortoise, a two headed eel, once we even caught a man-sized fish covered in hair.
Truth be told not a lot of people venture out to these waters. Other portions of the coastline are peppered with fishing boats, but this area remains secluded for a reason.
Croaker and I were staring at the dismembered finger when the captain walked up.
“Keep your wits about you boys. They don’t call this place the Twisted River for nothing” he said. “We know why we’re here”.
He reached down and picked the finger up for a closer inspection. The amputation was surgically clean as if it were lopped off at the knuckle by a miniature guillotine. He slowly turned it over, looking for God knows what. Maybe some kind of clue as to what or who removed the finger… good luck with that. After a few seconds he tossed it overboard with a flick of his wrist.
My eyes followed the appendage over the rail, but a sudden clap of thunder drew my attention to the dark clouds over the horizon. Maybe we should have heeded the suns warning. We’re all gamblers by nature on board the Jezebella but eventually the house always wins, and we’re just visitors here.
The captain didn’t have to say what to do next. All three of us walked over to todays catch and kept sorting. We all knew there were risks in coming out here but the reward of poaching these untouched waters and filling up our coffers was too great a temptation.
We worked in silence as the storm drew closer.
I prayed to myself that it would pass us by. All of this would be a waste if we got delayed too long and were forced to throw out the catch.
So far, my prayers were being answered. Every time the squall threatened to punch us in the mouth it would faint and dance around us.
“You boys want to chance one last drag before heading in?” said the Captain. “I think we can do it”.
“Aye” piped Croaker.
I didn’t have a good feeling about it, but I kept that to myself. 2 votes to 1 always wins.
Working quickly, we got the net, lines, and doors positioned for another release. After a moment everything hit the water with a great splash and the mouth of the net opened wide as it descended beneath the surface. Everything seemed to be unfolding correctly at first but a hitch in the right humming line caught my eye. The corresponding door wasn’t opening properly, and it was collapsing in on itself, swinging the line directly underneath the boat.
“Cut the engine” I yelled. The engine was suddenly straining.
The captain hit the kill switch, but it was a moment too late. Although I couldn’t see it, I knew what had happened, the crankshaft had seized in a tangle of ropes.
I walked over to the starboard rail and peered into the murky brown water. I could feel their eyes staring at me, I knew what was next.
“You boys know I’d bob around like a sea cow if I tried to cut us loose”. Said the captain. I could hear him patting his fat belly as he strode closer. “Plus, I can’t hold my breath like I used to. One of you is going to have to do it, and quick.”
I looked back at Croaker and saw a glazed over look in his eyes. I’ve never actually seen him get in the water. Swimming is an ironic thing for a fisherman to be afraid of.
Croak was anxiously rubbing his neck; I knew he wasn’t going in. I didn’t blame him, I probably wouldn’t either if I were him, besides it was time for me to have his back.
“I’ll do it.” I said
“Good lad,” said the captain. His wrinkled brow was facing toward the storm, “quick as you can”.
I stripped down to my boxers, climbed up on the starboard railing, and with my knife in my hand dove headfirst into the Twisted River. If I hesitated, I might not have had the courage to jump in. My adrenaline was streamlined as the icy cold water enveloped me and I disappeared beneath the surface.
I moved as quickly and gracefully as I could not wanting to spend any more time down there than I had to. I moved the knife to my mouth biting down on the flat part of the blade and carefully felt my way across the bottom of the barnacled hull. The salt water burned my eyes, but I couldn’t help but keep them open. I couldn’t see further than 6 inches in front of my face, but that was better than nothing.
15 seconds felt like 15 minutes, but I finally found the tensed humming line and followed it to the crank shaft. After a brief inspection it was clear that there was no salvaging the rope, so I started cutting. I tried to keep my mind on the task at hand and not allow my thoughts to drift into the alien world that surrounded me. I pulled my feet up until my toes were touching the hull. The thought of them dangling down into the darkness made me shudder.
1 and a half cuts down, halfway to freeing the crank shaft. I was fighting to finish it all in one breath but when I began to see stars, I knew it would take at least one more trip. I grabbed the humming line and pulled myself back to the surface. After few deep breaths of salty air, I dove back down to finish the job.
I could feel the blade cutting through each individual strand of rope. The closer I got the more frantic the sawing became. All my attention was focused on making each cut as effective as possible. I pulled with one arm and pushed the knife with the other. The last tangle of rope was giving way and in the anticipation of finishing the job I let my feet drift down into the darkness. The rope was free, and I started pulling it out with one arm as I held onto the crankshaft with the other.
A low buzzing started in my head, oxygen deprivation. I was slowly breathing out little bubbles to stay down as long as I could. I pulled the last bit of rope out, and as I did, something grabbed my ankle and pulled down on me…
The pressure threatened to snap my ankle bone into. Instinctively I screamed and let out all my remaining air. If it wasn’t for my vice like grip on the crank shaft, I would have been drug down to the sea floor.
The pulling became violent like the rapid yanking on a fishing line when you’ve hooked something that fights with desperation. I knew I didn’t have much time, thankfully I kept my wits about me. I gripped my knife tighter and after one of the bigger tugs on my battered leg, I let go of the crankshaft and bent double grabbing whatever had me and sticking it like pig. It released me and I swam towards the light as fast as I could. I broke the surface gasping for air and immediately grabbed ahold of any thing I could reach to pull myself out of the water.
“Something had me down there!” I said, “It was trying to drown me.”
I pulled myself up the side of the boat and sprawled out on deck.
“What in Sam Hill” said the captain as he got down on one knee to examine my ankle.
I followed his gaze and saw my foot sticking out at an awkward angle, it was dislocated. I guess the adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay.
“Lean back boy,” said the captain. I did as he said and felt an immense pressure and subsequent wave of sickening pain as he popped my ankle back into place. I felt the pain that time and it escaped me in a pitiful yell.
“Did ya get a lerk at it?” asked Croak.
“I could only see what was around my ankle, it was a hand, except it only had two fingers and a thumb. They were as thick as a cottonmouth and it’s skin was as rough as a stone. I grabbed it by the arm and stabbed it with my knife” I said.
“We’ve got to get out of here” said the captain, “we’ll talk once we’re out of this storm.”
Croakers’ eyes lingered on mine for a second longer. I could tell he was ashamed of not volunteering to go overboard but after what I just saw I don’t think either one of us will be getting in the water. If it happens again the captain will have to go in himself.
A moment later the deep rumble of the engine began to turn over.
That is, until the engine strained, and the crank shaft seized again.
“Did you not get the ropes out?” said the captain.
“I did… something must have put them back in there.” I replied.
It was just at this moment that the rain started to fall.