Page 52 of Weathering The Storm

Chapter 14

Nick

“This is a National Weather Service forecast for the Eastern Bering Sea and Bristol Bay. Small craft advisory in effect. Northwest winds thirty-five to forty-five knots, increasing to forty-five to fifty-five knots. Seas sixteen to twenty feet, building to twenty-five to thirty feet by early evening.

“The deepening low-pressure system is now tracking northeast at twenty knots. Mariners are advised to seek safe harbor immediately. The following zones are under storm warning...”

I brace myself against the control table to keep my legs from fidgeting as I listen to the forecast repeat for the third time in a row.

Fuck.

There goes the plan.

Twelve hours. That’s all that stands between us and the same storm that was supposed to ravage the peninsula. There’s no way to travel back to Unalaska without running directly into the foul weather, but we might be able to make it back to the Pribilofs if we push hard.

By the looks on Seth and Perry’s faces, they already know the verdict.

Shit’s about to get rough, and there’s not a thing we can do other than zip up our jackets and deal with it.

I’m half-dazed as I switch frequencies on the radio, but Captain Ericsen’s voice snaps me out of it. I’ve known him since I was my father’s bait-boy—a well-tenured fishing captain out of Dutch Harbor. Around my dad’s age, without the slightest inclination to give up life at sea until the day he dies.

“Anybody out by the Savings Area, forget making it back to Dutch tonight.”He gives a flat laugh.“I’ve got forty-knot gusts out here already and the swell period is shortening up. Get yourselves somewhere and sit tight ‘til this bastard blows through.”

“Fishing vesselJustify, this is fishing vesselSuoja. What are your coordinates?”

“56.4 degrees North, 162.8 degrees West. Hope the hell you’re nowhere near me, Lundvall. This shit’s for the big boys.”

I don’t tell him that I’m even farther north than he is, and we’re about to get slammed by the same storm he’s in the middle of. “Aw, why? Having a hard time hitting quota with our leftovers, old man?” I say with a smile.

“Ha! Nevermind. Sending this fuckin’ ice your way, kid.”

I turn the volume down, switch back to the weather channel to wait for updates, and look out the window at a view that confirms the forecast.

In what little daylight is left, the sky has drained of color. Grayish purple, with a sickly yellow glow outlining heavy clouds.

The swell has changed too. Nothing I’d call high yet, but choppier than what we were dealing with yesterday. The bay’s gotten itself into a heated argument with the open ocean, and neither one of them are backing down.

“Change of plans,” I tell Seth and Perry, turning the volume down on the VHF. “I need all hands securing the pots. We’re too far out to make it back to Dutch Harbor, but we’re going to shoot for St. Paul. It’s about to get a hell of a lot rougher from here on out though. I want everyone in their cabins as soon as the deck is lashed down.”

“Yes, sir,” Perry says.

Seth nods to him. “Go ahead. I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.”

This time, there’s no sly grin or whistle. Nobody’s looking forward to the grueling hours ahead.

One moment, Seth is my first mate. Diligent and unflappable. But as soon as Perry’s gone, he pulls me in and whispers in my ear. “It’s gonna be okay.”

No one has ever,eversaid that to me before a storm out here, and I’d never dream of expecting it.

It’s my job to make sure everything is okay. Until now, I’ve never known what it’s like to have someone making sureI’mokay.

I hug him back, and I give him what I’ve never been able to give to anyone. My deepest fears. The guilt that always lies in wait for me to make a poor judgment call so it can say,This was all your fault.

“It was my decision to push us out this far north,” I say.

“And we’ve been killing it out here. If you wanna hunt crabs, you’ve gotta meet them where they’re at. I promise you, we’re all gonna appreciate the paycheck you’re netting us.”

I’m not ready to let go of him, but I do because I have to. It’s time to get the hell out of here before the winds pick up.