One by one the crew changed into dry clothes. They gathered in the warm wheelhouse, keeping oilskins handy for a rush to deck. (Ham chose to wear his, although it soon made him sweat.) Each man identified his survival suit bag reluctantly as if the mere look would trigger a need for use. Hank returned the helm to Jody but stayed close. She needed to feel the force and knock of the Whale’s current for herself. After allowing it to push aside the bow once or twice, she learned to anticipate. The boat and its tow gained way slowly. Despite the threat of crisis they settled into routine. Terry soon recovered enough of his lightheartedness that even Seth smiled.
On CB: “Hinda to Adele. Changed filters, she’s running again. Will make slack and send back your towline.”
Hank remained cool. “To Hinda. Read that and good news. Do you want to ride tow a few minutes more to make sure of your engine?”
“No on that. Drained sediment tank, won’t happen again. We’ll cast loose when you’re ready.”
“He might at least thank us,” said Jody.
The Adele’s men hustled back their line when the Hinda’s men released it, pulling fast to keep it from entangling their own screw.
“Hey, man,” shouted Bud from the Hinda’s bow. His face glowed ruddy and grinning. “Bets still on?”
“Yeah. Yeah,” called Ham.
“Fuckin’-A yeah!” added Seth.
Slowly the two boats made it the rest of the way through Whale Passage. Both had passed Ilkognak Rock at the far end and entered wide Marmot Bay when the full storm hit.
5
KODIAK TALK
KODIAK ISLAND, EARLY AUGUST 1982
As the Adele H beat through rough water her crew’s widespread legs bent with the motion. Shifting wind had turned the sea erratic. When the boat dipped into troughs a slanting horizon of whitecaps coasted past their eye level. When the bow upheaved and plunged, everything in the wheel-house rattled, from cups in wooden holders to hinges on the overhead chart rack. Waves gushed across deck to knock against the battened skiff and make it quiver. Steady water dripped from the rigging. A wave hit broadside, the boat shuddered throughout, and something in the galley below broke loose and clattered. Mo raced down but returned unconcerned. Empty metal pot had jumped the rail on the stove, should have been stowed in a drawer.
It was the damned Hinda Bee thrashing alongside that held their attention. Now that she had lightened to an equal weight with the Adele and had regained her superior engine power, the Adele’s advantage of being first through Whale Passage lasted only minutes. In open water the Hinda pulled ahead. Hank and the others watched glumly.
“And not even a thanks,” Jody repeated.
“Thanks isn’t Gus’s style,” said Hank.
Spray arched a fan over the Hinda’s bow. The boat pranced and dipped as did their own. When its hull hit a trough, scudding crests blocked all but the cabin top from view. There from the wheelhouse windows gazed Bud and the other crewmen. They seemed detached. “Already countin’ our money,” muttered Ham. Gradually the Hinda increased its lead so that those aboard the Adele faced its aft quarter and then its stern.
When they entered the narrows leading to Kodiak, hilly islands blocked the wind, taming the worst of the seas. By now the gray evening sky, normally light beyond ten at this time of year, had darkened to black. Mist blurred house lights along the shore, but bolder lights from canneries reflected in the choppy water. Hank had ascertained their best price by radio and coded words, and they headed past town to the APS cannery. At the King Crab plant en route, the Hinda lay moored. Her men on deck had already opened the hold and were climbing down to pitch fish. Up on the pier forklift trucks brought pallets, and the crane operator had settled into his seat.
“That’s your bets lost, Boss,” said Mo. “They’ve beat us here and gone to unload.”
Jody shook her head. “I still can’t believe what they’ve done.”
“Just witch dough,” said Terry. “Don’t worry. Ham and me, we’ll make it up with our bet for best of the season. And look, until we see both tickets it’s still anybody’s biggest load this trip to win Seth and Mo’s bet.”
“If that old fart don’t put his finger on the scale,” muttered Seth.
“Yeah,” echoed Mo. “That’s just the sort of thing they’d do. Wouldn’t it?”
Hank coached Jody on docking. She brought the Adele H alongside the pier with only a bump against the pilings that fenders absorbed. The tide remained high enough to place their rail close to the top of the pier.
Even though it was close to Saturday midnight the cannery was in full operation, and there stood Adele Henry, hands on hips, silhouetted against the work lights. The translucent plastic of her kerchief and raincoat glowed like a halo around her middle-aged bulk. When Ham jumped over to secure their lines, Adele took his arm and said crisply, “Best put your forward line on that cleat there.”
“Yes ma’am.” He was grateful that it was the cleat Jody had already told him to use.
“Now give me a hand, dear.” Adele started to step aboard.
“Wait until we’ve finished tying,” barked Seth from deck, and tossed Ham the stern line.
“Oh!” Adele strode back and forth, then called to the wheelhouse, “And how’s my boat doing? How’s my Captain Jody doing?”
“No wonder Jones never let her aboard,” muttered Hank. He continued to instruct Jody in shutting-down procedure.
With mooring completed, Adele held Ham’s hand from the pier while Terry in the boat leaned out and gripped her arm. Her raincoat stuck against the sides of calf-high rubber boots and she stumbled with a “Whoops!” then recovered to fall into Terry’s arms. Although he was nearly a head shorter, he caught her firmly. She straightened, thanked him, smoothed her clothes, and looked around. “Well! Good trip? Everything shipshape?”
“Real good, ma’am.”
“I trust you boys caught your share of fish?”
“Lots, ma’am.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you needn’t call me ma’am like an old lady. Just call me . . . Mrs. Henry, I suppose. Now. Take me to Jody.”
Hank had been watching with Jody from the wheelhouse. “Adele’s a grand gal, but. . .”
“Did she just come down and leave the children alone?” Jody fretted. “I need to see them before anything else. I’ll use her car if she wants to stay.”
“Adele wouldn’t do that. You know they’re safe. First, do your shakedown properly, then your business at the office. That’s what skippers need to do.”
Adele’s high, confident voice came up from the galley. “That coffee urn! I told my late husband repeatedly it shouldn’t be right by the door where any sleeve could hook.”
“Makes it easy to reach in from deck for a mug-up, Miz Henry. We’re careful.”
“That’s not the point when you could scald yourself, Terry. Men never listen. We’ll see.” Her tread was heavy on the steps to the wheelhouse. Near the top she stopped for breath, then called businesslike: “Your hand, Hank dear, pull me up the rest of the way.” Hank duly complied, pecked her on the cheek, and asked about the children. “All dears, asleep now like angels, though I must say little Pete’s in his devil stage. A neighbor’s in the living room while I’m here, of course. Help me off with this coat, please.”
She ignored Hank further. “Where is she? Where’s my captain? There!” She threw out her arms and advanced to Jody. “I’m so proud of you.” Her voice turned husky. “Oh, I’m so proud!” They hugged. “All by yourself catching those fish and bringing them in. Oh! We’re going to show them!”
“Thank Hank for showing me.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure he was helpful. You said on radio that you’re keeping Terry and Ham for crew. Good choice instead of Seth, since that Seth’s manners aren’t very . . . Let me look at you. Yes!”
Hank listened restlessly, then said that he and Jody needed to go to the office. “Sign papers and talk price a bit.”
“At this time of nigh
t?” Adele gathered back her coat. “Well, I should see how it’s done.”
“It’s generally a one-on-one process, Adele. Jody’s going because after this she’ll need to do it by herself.”
Adele’s hands went to her hips. The sags of her cheeks drew down to the pug-dog expression she assumed when challenged. “And I take it you don’t think I’m part of this operation? Well, I have a few things to say about what they pay for my fish, and this is as good a time as any. Jody! Tell him!”
Jody had resumed stowing the charts. “I think tonight had better be just Hank and me.”
Pause. “Well, Jody. If you say so.” Pause. “Now, you’re all expected back at the house, of course. I’ve made up the couch, and Hank can sleep on the floor. It’s late, so don’t be long.”
Jody took Hank’s arm. “We’d better hang around the boat if you’ll handle the kids just one more night. We’re really grateful. But I should learn everything about delivering to the cannery.”
Pause. “Yes, well, I suppose you must. I’ll see you for breakfast. Seven thirty, that’s when I’ll have it all hot, so don’t be late.”
Jody tightened her grip on Hank’s arm as he started to object. “We’ll be there.”
Up in the office Hank confirmed the coded price he’d been offered: two cents a pound above the published rate. With easy banter he tried for two cents more.
The manager laid thick-lensed glasses on the table, his sign that he’d finished. “I paid extra, Hank, only because you’re first at the dock, that’s why. And maybe because what the hell, everybody’s talking about Jody taking over. Somebody from the Mirror asked around yesterday who you’d deliver to. Said they’d want photos and a story. But there’s a whole fleet from Uganik at the other side of Whale Pass slowed by the storm. By tomorrow morning boats’ll be more like paying me to take their fish.”
Jody smiled her wide smile. “Bob, we understand. By the way, did you know that my crewmen are Terry Bricks and Ham Davis? They’re already competing to highline for me, so you can count on fish. Since I have no commitment to other buyers the way Hank and his buddies have, you might just lock me in when things get scarce and you want to keep the plant going.” The smile continued wickedly. “With all that publicity, my fish could make you famous.”
She gained them another cent a pound.
In the old days at most canneries there would have been a handshake to seal the bargain, followed by a bottle, shot glasses, and chaser at least for the lady. Jody’s signature on paper did it here.
Hank put his arm around her as they descended back stairs into the washed fish-ammonia odors and gunning noise of the plant warehouse. “How about this?” he murmured close to her ear. “Get a room at the K-I tonight, tell nobody, have you to myself. No crew, no Adele, no little ones, nyet. The way it never happens any more.”
“I thought a skipper stayed with his boat.”
“I wasn’t being that honest with poor Adele. After the unloading starts, if the skipper has a good man on deck he can trust. . .”
“You had me fooled.”
“Well, I meant it about duty to the boat. The boat comes first. But—”
“Not your family?” Her voice took on the edge he knew signaled beware.
“As long as you know the family’s safe, boat first.”
“You’d better mean that.”
“I do.”
She lightened and her head brushed his cheek. “Kodiak Inn sounds nice.” The concrete floor was slippery from hosing. They stepped aside at the beep of a forklift, and she lost her balance, perhaps deliberately, to fall more closely against him. He gladly took advantage to hold her.
In a long room adjacent to the warehouse, people in floppy yellow oilskins stood arm to arm at a long sliming table. They had none of the young jaunt of the college kids at the remote Uganik Bay plant. Most were copper-skinned. All were intent. The women wore kerchiefs. Some of the men had thick black mustaches and Latino faces.
“When I worked those lines a dozen years ago there wasn’t a single Vietnamese or Mexican or anybody else foreign,” said Jody. “Just Americans drifting through. These guys look so permanent. Not even music while they work. The Vietnamese crowd a big family into a room or two and save to bring more family. In counseling we have to deal with conditions for their kids. It’s so different. Faces in town are different. I didn’t expect to speak of days gone by so soon.”
“Don’t forget that some of us drifters stayed,” said Hank. “Call us the newest pioneers.”
“No, it’s strange, I mean it. All that time in our lives that’s slipped by. Not that I’d go back, but—
“All that freedom. Now we sneak half a night with a little lie, but have to report for duty again by seven thirty.”
When they returned to the boat, Mo and Ham were opening the hatch while Seth called up to the crane operator. A worker in oilskins already stood inside the hopper that would receive the fish and channel them along chutes to the processing bins inside.
Hank stood by Jody to direct her at the controls. He also called up Terry from the hold. “You’re deck boss here now. I’ll check you out too.” Halfway through the unloading he touched her shoulder. “You’ve got the hang. So does Terry. He can take over. Let’s go up the hill.”
“Nope.” She grinned wickedly. “Boat first.”
When the last brailerload had been swung across the pier and emptied into the hopper, Seth left to check the Jody Dawn at the boatyard, and Jody finally declared, “Terry! Scrubdown’s yours. See you tomorrow.” “You got it. Say, is anybody going to check what the Hinda Bee delivered? You guys going over there now?”
“That’s yours too,” Jody continued. “See you tomorrow. We’ll need to take on two new crew, so talk around.”
“I’m on it, skipper.”
Like I didn’t exist, thought Hank. But their confidence reassured him.
As they left a figure approached them from shadows on the pier. Despite alternating drizzle and rain he wore only cotton sweats with a hood. “Excuse me, sir, is that your boat?” His wet hair was slapped onto a thin forehead.
“Hers,” Hank said. Now see how Jody handled a potential crewman.
“Oh, a woman? Whew.” The kid started away, then turned back. “Excuse me again. You wouldn’t need an extra hand—ma’am?”
“Not right now.” Jody looked him over quickly and impersonally. “Any experience? If I hear of something.”
“I’m a fast learner. You’d see.”
“Name? Where from?”
“Joel. New York. Joel Schneweiss, means white snow, not Snow White. I’ve been up here four weeks now, about gone broke.”
“The canneries are hiring.”
“Yeah, but I came up here to be on a fishing boat. Anyhow, canneries? I just got off a ten-hour shift down the road. But I ask at any boat when I see one come in, even if it’s midnight.”
“Shift doing what?”
“Just now the halibut line.”
“And you do what?”
“Lift them from the bin, slime ’em, stuff like that. Not brain surgery.”
“Those fish are heavy.”
“You tell me. Especially since I came up here to be on a fishing boat.” Hank became interested, and amused. “Don’t you think you’d bust your ass on a fishing boat?”
“But that would be different.”
Right answer, Hank thought. But the kid still didn’t look strong enough to hold out. He wouldn’t have hired him.
Jody nevertheless pointed to her boat and told the kid to check with Terry on deck. Climbing the hill, alone again with Hank, she said, “Probably stumbles over his feet. But a bird in the hand.”
“That’s the kind of scrapings you’ll find this late in the season.”
“Sticking out halibut shifts says something. Terry can sound him out.”
He kissed her. “Tomorrow’s problem, not now.”
The men of the Adele H had scrubbed the hold with disinfectant and were hos
ing gurry from each others’ backs when the kid named Joel called down to Terry. The tide had lowered so that Terry needed to squint up against pier lights to see the hooded figure. He had other things on his mind but said, “Climb down for a minute if you want.” He nudged Ham who was about to follow the others inside. “Help check him out. You and me are the ones got to work with anybody gets hired.”
The two watched the newcomer coolly. He wasn’t husky, and his climb rung by rung down the slippery ladder was cautious. Wet in more ways than his clothes, thought Terry. “So like, uh, what boats you been on?” asked Ham. No boat.
“Can you cook?”
“Sure, why not?”
At midday they might in charity have invited him to the galley for coffee before sending him off At this hour Terry merely told him to drop back tomorrow if he wanted. The kid wouldn’t leave. “It must be funny, working for a woman. But I’m ready to take anything.”
“Suit yourself. But we’re likely full.”
“The fellows on the Hinda Bee’, just unloading at my cannery, said you needed crew.”
“Hinda, huh? How’d they do?”
“It looked like lots of fish. But I was on halibut line, not salmon. It’s just that I ask at every boat. I came up here to be on a fishing boat.”
“What did they act like, those guys on the Hinda?”
“I don’t know. Busy. Didn’t say much.”
They watched the kid climb awkwardly back up the slippery metal ladder. “Good-bye to him,” muttered Ham.
“Except there might not be much damn choice.”
“Think we ought to go check out those pricks on the Hinda? See how much they delivered?”
Terry took time to consider, although the thought had been his also. He checked around deck as he’d often done before, but now uneasily. Different being deck boss instead of a mere ape in the crew, especially since Jody above him might need watching to not screw up as skipper. It was more responsibility than he’d known. Or even wanted, likely. Ham stood waiting. “Might not hurt to check. After they played that trick on us. Knowing they had more engine and all.”
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