Author's Note: Still figments of my imagination written for entertaining purposes only. All real people, objects, and locations are still obviously not my own, nor do I claim them. Constructive criticisms are most welcome!
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Grabbing a bait sack and half a cod, Ashton staggered across the deck to the waiting pot. Diving headfirst into the pot, she twisted onto her back and clipped the bait sack to the pot and passed the cod's clip through the netting to Jake's waiting fingers. She slid out just as an icy wave crashed against the rail, sending the ranger-turned-greenhorn sliding under the sorting table.
Sig watched her climb unsteadily from beneath the full table with help from Edgar's hand at her elbow. Although the young woman had been with them for a little over a week, the skipper was still sour about being forced to take her on as a greenhorn. Her supervisor, Jasper Cromwell, had made it all but impossible to refuse. 'Fish and Game liaison' my ass, this is just another way for him to piss me off.
"One hundred-five, one-oh-five." Nick's exhausted voice brought the eldest Hansen from his dark thoughts. He wrote down the count and glanced down at the monitor again before turning his gaze to stare out the large windows before him. His haggard face was briefly illuminated with an orange glare as he pulled deeply from the dying cigarette. Exhaling the cloud of smoke, he glanced over at the cameraman, David, dozing in the chair across the wheelhouse. Taking his glasses off, he scrubbed a hand across his face then back through his thinning blonde hair. He slid his glasses back on and turned to the camera mounted on one of his side monitors.
"She's a good worker, a hard worker. But she doesn't belong out here – not on the Opie grounds. If – if she were going to make a career out of this, which I doubt, I would have started her on Kings. But that prick boss of hers is out to get her as much as he is me, and it pisses me off." During his rant, Sig's attention moved from deck monitor to the radar screen, to notebook and finally the rough seas battering his boat and crew.
Reaching up, he lifted the loudhailer handset and his rough voice echoed into the night.
"Last pot of this string coming up. I want to rebait it and put it back, and then we'll make a run up to our northern spot." Edgar's emotionless 'roger' drifted up to Sig and he grinned for the first time in over a week.
"He doesn't like it when I do this. We're doing okay, but it could be better. I have a hunch that we'll do better a little closer to the ice. We've still got twenty pots on board, so depending on how our northern spot is looking, we'll set them there. By the time we get back down here, these pots should be stuffed."
Down on deck, Ashton staggered back to the bait station as the pot she'd just vacated splashed into the water. Taking the knife from the scabbard at her hip, she sliced into the box of frozen herring and dumped the fish into the grinder. Turning on the machine, she went through the motions of bagging up the ground herring. Her entire body ached, and her brain felt as if it were wrapped in a thick fog. She was barely aware of the crew securing the deck behind her and only became aware of Jake standing beside her when she bumped into him on her way back to the bait freezer. Switching off the bait grinder, Jake took Ashton by the hand and led her into the ready room, where he helped her out of her rain slicker before shedding his. He followed her as she staggered to the galley's wraparound bench and slid in next to Matt. Ashton collapsed next to Norman and immediately rested her forehead against her arms, slipping into a half-hearted doze.
Edgar saw Jake's weary gaze stop on the dozing ranger, and called him out on it.
"Don't get too attached, Junior. We're gonna give her back sometime." Edgar's muddy brown eyes flicked over to the dozing woman sitting kitty-corner from him and the corners of his mouth twitched up into a humorless smile. "We just never said what condition she'd be in when we did." Ashton's ears turned a deeper shade of red as she listened to Edgar's comments and earned a snort from Matt and Nick. Forcing her eyes open, she sighed and struggled to her feet, pulling her slicker and hood over her dripping hair as she stumbled out onto the rocking deck. After a moment, the men heard the bait grinder roar into life. Edgar shook his head and turned to Jacob with his ever-recording camera.
"She doesn't belong out here on a crab boat in the middle of hell." Jacob's strawberry blonde eyebrows scrunched together in confusion over hazel eyes.
"You mean during Opilio season?" Edgar shook his head again and cupped his gloved hands around his mouth to light another cigarette.
"I mean she doesn't belong out here period. But if she wants to play this suicidal game Sig and her jackass boss forced on us all, who am I to say otherwise?" An uneasy silence fell between the six men, each conserving their strength for the next string they were about to set. Edgar kept an eye on his protégé, Jake, who sat with hands folded in his lap and the sulky look that appeared when mental and physical exhaustion began taking its' toll.
"Okay, lets turn and burn!" Sig's rough voice boomed over the loudhailer forty-five minutes later and his haggard crew once again fell into their routine with a robotic fluidity that the skipper loved so well. Everyone kept an eye on the greenhorn as she shuffled across the pitching deck time and time again. Every so often Edgar would yell out at Ashton as she blundered into dangerous situations, or Sig's voice boomed a wave warning over the loudhailer. By the time the twentieth pot hit the water, the dawn's feeble light struggled to break through the winter clouds and Ashton struggled to choose between a hot meal and her unmade bunk. Passing by the bait station she paused, wondering if she'd prepped enough bait sacks to allow her the luxury of inhaling hot food and a two hour nap.
"Keep moving, Half-Pint. Last thing I need on my deck is a dead greenhorn. Eat something first, and then sleep. The damn bait can wait." Edgar growled sourly as he brushed past her on his way through the door to shed his rain gear. Following suit, the rest of the crew met up in the galley and began shoveling the meal Edgar prepared between setting pots. Norman ignored the dirty glare Edgar shot him and slapped a hearty serving of mashed potatoes onto her plate next to a pile of salted cod. She stared blankly at the steaming plateful of food until Nick shoved a fork into her hand and guided both fork and hand to stab a chunk of fish. The crew chuckled at Ashton as she blinked and shook her head before shoving the cod into her mouth; eyes watering as the hot food burned her tongue she swallowed the morsel and began shoving the food unceremoniously into her mouth without bothering to chew.
"Damn, I guess somebody was hungry. Better slow down, Half-Pint or you'll make yourself sick." A blush turned Ashton's pale cheeks scarlet at Edgar's comment and she half smiled as she swallowed milk to cool her burning mouth before returning to her plate. She kept her head down, aware of Jacob's camera filming her hasty attempt to fill her rumbling stomach, and resumed eating at a slower pace. The sound of heavy footsteps descending the wheelhouse staircase brought her head around with her forkful of potatoes paused halfway to her mouth.
"Mmm, smells good in here. Salted cod, my favorite!" Rubbing his hands eagerly, Sig crossed the galley and joined his crew to the well-earned meal. He'd noticed Ashton's nervous start as he entered the room and he studied her with narrowed blue eyes, taking in the dark circles beneath her eyes. The skipper went back to his meal as the young woman glanced up at him between mouthfuls.
"I'm not gonna pass out on you guys, you know. I just look like it," the redhead mumbled around a mouthful of fish, earning a wary half smile from the deck boss and skipper. She sniffled and wiped a damp and grungy sleeve underneath her nose, looking back down at her plate and frowned in mild disappointment when she realized she'd cleaned it. Dammit, I'm still hungry too. Norman snorted as the others chuckled and Ashton froze with wide eyes, suddenly aware that she'd spoken her thoughts aloud.
"Tastes better than it looks, I'll give you that…" Seeing Edgar's brown eyes narrow with a dangerous glint daring her to continue, Ashton's voice trailed off and she bit back a quip about Edgar asking Emeril for help in the aesthetic department. Instead she slid out from her seat and cleared her place before her feet automatically guided her back toward the ready room. Edgar, Jake, and Norman simultaneously barked "bed!" at her retreating back and she silently obeyed.
Fifteen minutes later when the crew moved to join Ashton in the staterooms, Jake and the two younger Hansen brothers found her sleeping deeply, still in her damp clothes and shoes. Jake gently pulled her shoes off before tucking her thick blanket tightly around her and brushed her drying hair away from her face before climbing into the bunk above her.
Copyright Alissa Franko 2009