Anda II

Penny and Michael struggled with the boom as they dragged the bag into the boat. A bag full of shit. Inedible worthless crabs and short ground fish catapulted from the skirt over the hopper and onto the deck. The net sighed and clucked like it was judging itself for being such a waste of fuel. Penny stepped out of the wheel house and caught a crab the size of a baseball beneath her heel before crushing it and kicking it through the scupper in two swift swings of her oversized boot.

“Cunt.”

“I wish you wouldn’t do that.” Said Michael as he dropped the stern boards into the ramp.

“They’re whores.” She said.

Michael sighed. She never used to be like this. “Trippers ready.”

“Fuck I guess we’re really still doing this huh?”

“Your captain Pen.”

She paused, then shook her head and walked back to the wheel house to man the controls for the boom again. She watched as he unfouled the lines leading from the tripper and stood back as she raised the net and its contents spilled into the hold and over the deck. The catch actually wasn’t as bad as she thought it was. It still wasn’t good though. Michael moved around the writhing mess getting baskets and shovels ready. He kicked and cursed at a chunk of ice, pulled his hat down even lower so that his eyes looked like two angry beads beneath a thick line of wool. She laughed. Even in the middle of the Bering sea he still looked like he just walked off the F train.

Michael looked up at the wheel house and rolled his eyes, then started to laugh too. He wanted to be angrier. This entire situation was insane. But he probably should have known, that any adventure with her was probably a bad idea, he thought. He remembered when they met.
They picked the pile together quickly. Michael knew Penny didn’t have to with a bag this small, he could handle it on his own fast enough, but she didn’t think of him as crew. He was a captain as well, and many years her senior at that. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Michael she wouldn’t even be a captain. Her days were numbered once, she was wild and reckless, angry, before she returned to the sea and found ships to tame her. They were deckhands together back then, on her first ship, and he took her under his wing. He was the first person to be her friend that year. No, Michael was not her crew and she was not the only captain of the Mary Celeste. They were partners, and chose to go to Alaska together.

When they finished the pile they shuffled back into the wheelhouse silently. They peeled off their rubbers, stacked their boots in the corner and put on dry ones, though they were cold. Michael asked if they would set again. She shook her head no - they needed a rest - then he made a note in the log and climbed down the companionway to his bunk in the fo’c’s’le.

Penny flopped in the chair at the helm with an apathetic thunk. She heard Michael pause, then continue moving about in the cabin below. So he heard me. She thought. Fine. He knows I’m not happy anyway. Im sure he isnt either.  Penny was not sure why she came. As the trip entered its 5th day she let her hope of a slow beginning ease out like surging a dock line. Nobody was catching, a storm was on its way. Not a dangerous one, granted - according to the marine radio forecast - but enough to kick up a decent sized swell nonetheless. In all, her maiden voyage was a total flop.

She missed her fleet back home. The unlikely Shinnecock Commercial Fishing fleet that became her home and taught her everything. Just everything. She wasn’t sure why she even left. No. Thats a lie, she did. Money. The years were getting increasingly meager off the south shore of long island and with just a little state boat she couldn’t chase after scallops or larger pay fish like some of the other boats. She thought she’d take her chances with a shiny red captains license that she never used and go to Alaska. Yeah. She thought, and spat a string of tobacco that escaped her rolled cigarette and on to her tongue, out the open porthole. Just like always. I thought I was so fucking smart. I always think I’m so fucking smart. Especially when I’m not listening to anyone. Penny was bitter. No. Salty. She was finally the salty foul mouthed, wild haired captain she dreamed of being when she was a little girl. I thought I was so fucking smart. She thought, thinking of that little girl.