My father, a marine engineer and thermos-nuclear propulsion expert, got an epic job near Jacksonville. So he upped and moved us to this island about half an hour or so from the city…Jax as we called it. I was six at the time and though I spoke English, the cultural shock was enough to throw me into the choicest Danish profanities.

But now, having wheels to take me places, finding a secluded stretch of beach to ruminate on was easy. Though I sort of had acquaintances, I had no friends. That was fine with me because being around people for any length of time, especially my peers, became painful; emotionally and even physically.

Having enough in my life to keep me busy, the social interaction wasn’t necessary. Not at all…! I rarely had anything to say of interest to them anyway and my mom and dad were quite receptive to whatever I did need to verbalize. So the beach and the sea were my true friends.

Putting on a bikini top with something finally showing, and the matching bottom hiding something from showing, I finished my attire with baggie shorts. I was beginning to really have some shape and could only hope that my ‘growth’ would continue. My mom is a lush woman with full breasts and I was told my ‘growth’ might continue.

Finding a totally deserted stretch of beach wasn’t difficult. On Thursday I took my mom’s car and drove down the one main road. I parked in the nature preserve lot and simply crossed the road from the beach…and the sea. The preserve was strictly tourist because we live it every day. And the beach was far more off-islander friendly at the south end where you could get refreshments whenever.

So I sat on the dunes and gazed out at my friend and we conversed in our own special language. When the breeze blew in that fishy smell, I knew that fishing would be good. That smell was fish oil being emitted as the big fish feasted on the schools of smaller fish. When I could see the terns and gulls working, I knew the fish were closer in. The sea held few secrets from me.

During the weekend the beach was deserted. Once again the south end had all the attractions. On rare occasions somebody might jog past on the shore line but other than that…no people. I had my very own ‘Fortress of Solitude’. That sort of changed on Monday. Arriving at my usual place, there was this guy sitting on a dune on the opposite side of the beach entry.

Standing at the top of the wood planked entry, I stared at him trying to decide whether I should go to my perch, or seek out another spot. The aroma of the sea called to me and so I went and took my ‘throne’ atop my dune. I gazed at him briefly before deciding that I was of no interest to him. His gaze was fixed seaward.

However…from what little I could see…he looked kind of cute. His longish curly blond hair was sun bleached and his tanned skin only accentuated that fact. Though he wore a white tee shirt, I imagined his body was as hard and muscular as his bulging arms. For sure he was an islander with his faded jeans and sandals.

Not one to be easily distracted, I took my eyes off him and cast them at the ocean where they belonged. The water was a bit choppy inshore which almost always assured rougher conditions offshore. My nose was up and into the fresh ocean air. Today it was devoid of the scent of fish oil; yet another sign of rough water offshore or an impending storm.

At dinner that evening, I was too distracted to partake in the conversation. This was somewhat problematic because we always spoke Danish at home. My mom and dad didn’t want me to forget my heritage. They, and I, would someday return home. And sooner was way better than later.

But I was one step ahead of them. My Danish had to be better than merely good because I always spent my summers with my grandfather back home. He was captain of a fishing vessel and was currently operated an eighty-meter ship. His crew was mostly other Danes. His first officer and engineering officer, as well as his first mate, have sailed with him for years.

Although most trips were only two months or so, he sometimes would put out to sea for up to several months at a time. He allowed me to plot his courses complete with all the navigation by working on the charts. Then he would verify my bearings, and time on bearing, with the electronic gear.

Learning to pilot the ship was next. I knew how to operate all the electronics. Then I would work as a deck hand feeding the baits to the long lines, or sorting and even cutting out the catch. My Farfar (that’s familiar Danish for grandfather) enjoyed the fact that I took to the work so easily and naturally.

But it was all his doing. I’d been going to sea since I was one month old. I had trouble breathing on land and mom and dad suggested he take me to sea. My mom would pack enough of her frozen breast milk and my Mormor (that’s familiar Danish for grandmother), who often went to sea with him, saw to the rest. The ritual simply continues to this day.

Normally the North Sea was usually favorable during the summer months. But on one of our trips we encountered a fearsome squall. Even the most seasoned hands felt queasy whilst the others were flat out sick on their bunks. But I was fine and I was taught how to pilot a vessel in foul weather.

But for all this to happen I needed to speak the language quite well. Almost every inch of any ship has a precise location. So I needed to know what ‘abaft the main thwart on the starboard side of deck two’ meant and exactly where that was and how to relay that to a crewmember. Even though decks were well marked, my grandfather insisted I know these things.

“Where are you tonight Yulia?” Dad sometimes called me ‘Yuli’ or ‘Lia’ but never Jools.

Shrugging my shoulders I could only smile and blush.

“Was he handsome?” My dad grinned.

“He was really cute.” I whispered with a grin.

“He goes to your school?” My mom enquired.

“I don’t think so. He’s a little older and I didn’t speak to him.” I frowned. “He was sitting on another dune.”

“Perhaps Njǫror will bring him to you.” Dad chuckled.

I simply smiled coyly with downcast eyes and a blush rushed to my cheeks.

Njǫror is the sea God who brings fair seas and good catches when he’s pleased. I should only be that lucky to receive such a ‘gift’. Dad and mom were always telling me the Old Norse legends. It began as a bedtime ritual and grew to spur of the moment recitals of the tales and sagas.

At least those old tales gave me something to fall asleep with as they often did. And I’d dream of valiant shield maidens and warriors and great kings doing fabulous deeds. And I dreamed of captaining a great ship and bringing in amazing catches.

The next afternoon I decided to do something different; something that might get me noticed if that guy was on the dunes. After checking my beach bag for the bare essentials…beach towel, a horrid number fifty sun block…with moisturizer of course…, my driver’s license and a few dollars, I ran back to my bathroom.

Gazing at myself in the mirror, I thought…‘maybe…just maybe…’! Carefully I applied some light brown mascara to my lashes. I’m so blond that they can’t be seen easily. And, not doing this every single day caused me to be even more careful applying a deep red lip stain with a top coat of sun block gloss. Whilst the rest of me might go unnoticed, my lips and lashes certainly wouldn’t.

Throwing on a tee shirt over my bikini top, another first since the weather was so very fair, I grabbed my floppy straw hat, sunglasses, and I was off. And there he sat with his face pointed into the wind. I made as much of a show setting myself up as I could without shouting ‘look at me’. But the effort was of no avail.

After some time I removed my floppy hat and sun glasses. I craned my face up into the wind and let in blow over me. But when I quickly glanced over toward him I saw that he was standing at the water’s edge looking outward. Yet another major league bust…!

In truth I didn’t know what I would do if he did come over to me. All I wanted was to talk with him. Okay…so maybe I wanted to do more than simply talk. But there was only so far I could go. I couldn’t remove my shorts lest I reveal my not-so-little secret. I was at my wits end.

On Wednesday Njǫror must have heard my silent lamentations. A dark shadow appeared upon the water. At first I thought it to be a cloud passing and casting a shadow. But after gazing up at the sky, I saw that none were present. I knew it was a school of fish packed tightly together. Something much larger had to be ‘balling’ up dinner.

Racing to the water’s edge I gazed at the approaching mass of fish. To see what was causing them to ball up so tightly, I would need to wade into the water which I promptly did as they came by. Suddenly I heard a voice from behind me. I turned to see who called out. It was him!

“Hey…! Come back out!” He shouted and waved emphatically.

“But I want to see what’s balling them.” I whined…sort of…as I heeded his words.

“Yeah…? And wind up on the wrong end of a broadbill or bull shark?” He shook his head. “Don’t be stupid.”

Turning back for one last peek I caught a glimpse of a really large fish. Hmmm… I liked his voice. A tenor…

“It’s a tuna!” I cried out with excitement and pointed. “A really big one…!”

“The water’s been warm this spring. Probably a yellow fin… You don’t usually see them this close in.”

Standing still to catch another glimpse of the large fish, I spoke again.

“By the way… My name is Jools.”

When I heard no reply, I turned to see him jogging back to his perch atop the dunes. Gone…! He looked as good from the rear as he did from the front. Let’s see… The stubble on his chin and cheeks was a reddish-blonde hue. A killer band of freckles bridged his nose linking those just beneath his eyes.

Those eyes were still a mystery hidden behind wrap-around sunglasses. Very cute butt… Hmmm… I felt like I was wanting to squeeze it? Not hard mind you… Just like checking a melon or something…?

But…no pun intended…it was not to be. Perhaps it wasn’t Njǫror at work. Perhaps it was Loki teasing and tempting me. I left the beach down hearted. I was no closer to being with my new crush…not that I had an old one. I was totally FOMO.

Dinner was even more depressing. My mom and dad kept trying to involve me in their daily but I couldn’t be bothered to pay attention. I knew that they knew that something was going on with me. Thankfully they never broached that topic. My mom sort of knew what was up with me? She smiled gently and knowingly at me.

Passing on dessert, my mom bothered to bake spandauer…a type of Danish pastry of course, I went to my bedroom and completely lost my poopie…but in a quiet way? Covering my head with my pillow, I let it all out…whatever ‘it’ was. I was doomed to never really meet him. My crush was crushing me. The knock on my bedroom door went unheard as did its opening.

“What troubles you my child?”

Mom’s voice broke through my tearful demeanor. I sniffled and shrugged my shoulders. She sat down on the bed and smiled gently. You know…that motherly smile?

“It’s that boy. No…?”

With a sniffle, I nodded my head. Then a sudden rush of emotions caused me to sit up and hug her. I needed to feel her arms around me letting me know that everything would be all right. She didn’t disappoint…as if that was ever a notion at any time with her. As mom held me, patting my shoulder gently, she chuckled and I could feel her smile.

“I know exactly how it is. I was sixteen…at one time.” She chuckled again and I relished her supple body’s movements against mine. “And I couldn’t have enough of the parties and the boys…and the girls.”

Mom never told me that before. ‘…boys…and girls’…! I was a bit surprised. I mean truly… Can you ever image your folks having sex at all? With each other…with anyone…?

“I know how powerful the wanting can be. But you must be careful here Yuli.” She never called me Yulia or Jools. “This is not home and these people do not understand. I do not want you to suffer from their childish ways and ideas.”

“I know mom.” I pushed away slightly to gaze into her eyes. “I just don’t understand. I never felt this way toward anyone. And never toward someone I’ve never even met.”

“Oh Yuli…” Mom sighed and smiled; her hands upon my shoulders. “There are no flowers or music…no fine meals…no moonlight…no…romance. We are not a romantic people. This is how it is. We are a passionate people full of fire. And we burn. That is what you feel. The burning...”

In spite of sniffling, I smiled and nodded. Indeed it felt like a fire inside me. And I burned for someone whose name I didn’t even know. Mom was right…as usual. Back home, I would be noticed and I would be able to know if someone burned for me as well.

There is no fuss like there is here. Back home, it could just as easily be a ‘yes’ as a ‘no’. My ‘issue’ would not be a hindrance or an excuse for abuse of some sort. It would simply be a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ and we could walk off together…or separately. This is how it was when I went back home for the summer.

“And so my child…” Mom smiled, gazed into my eyes, and ran her hand through my hair sweeping it back behind my ears. “Now you know how it is. Tomorrow we will go into town. I think it is time to have our nails done. Pick a bright color to brighten your spirits. And we will have lunch together.”

There was such joy in her eyes…and her smile. In the depths of utter despair, I’d forgotten about our monthly ritual; mani-pedis and lunch. She would go at least twice a month. But the way I ran through manicures, it would be at least once a week. So once a month would need to do.

And I was so terrible at the task that I all would do is add top coats to what was left until the only recourse remaining was to remove everything. Then I would apply only the base coat and two of the topcoat. In other words, it would be harder to mess up until I would mess that up! At least mom’s announcement eased my despair.

Now please understand…it’s not like I’m into makeup and fancy hair styles. But something about having shiny blood red finger and toe nails makes me feel…complete? And nothing too fancy or strange either…no sparkles or charms or other stuff… Just a deep red color and at least two top coats for protection.

But…and a very big but…I would miss the beach that afternoon and yet another attempt to connect with my crush. And so my delight was just slightly tempered. But…and yet another very big but…if it was meant to be…it would be. And if not…at least I had killer nails.

We had a wonderful time. Mom kept a stream of chatter going in both English and Danish. And her amazing energy infected me. She stayed by my side the entire time saving me the task of having to speak with the stylist. Our stylist was my mom’s age and she was always asking me about boyfriends and school. Not my fave subjects…! And so mom did all the talking.

Lunch was amazing as well. We had a view of the inlet and the ocean that expanded beyond. So I spent my time enjoying my mom, the food, gazing at my sparkling new nails, and having a view of my first true love; the sea.

“So my little one…” Okay…so sometimes she would call me that even though I was now just slightly taller than her. “How is it with you today? You were very upset last night.”

Mom gave me her best ‘mom’ smile. It’s the one that hugs you even though you’re seated away from her?

“Oh mom…” I sighed and smiled weakly.

“I know. It is hard…growing up. Painful at times…” She put her hand atop mine.

“So how do you deal with it?” Fair question I thought.

“Deal…?” Mom stared blankly at me for a moment. “Deal…? Ah yes… Deal…!” She chuckled. Mom didn’t always understand me. She took English quite literally. “You must always believe in a tomorrow. He may be of a different place than you…than us. If he doesn’t feel a connection…then that is how it is. But if he is of the sea as you are, then you must wait for the right tide.”

Mom believed in people having spirits based on what is natural. I sort of believed that as well. There was no hiding my spirit. But that spirit was only at rest when I was at sea. Beaching it wasn’t my first choice by any means. And merely playing in the water with a variety of water toys only cheapened that spirit.

Sunday came and once again my crush was missing. That was three days gone. Perhaps he did find another beach. Maybe he wanted the same solitude I did. And once again I was crushed by my crush. At least I had my gleaming red nails as consolation. As if…!!!

But on Monday he was back. The only problem was that Loki brought him. As I was exiting my car…well…actually mom’s car…I was accosted by this guy. He was def a mainlander. Just gazing at him made me cringe. He was almost…too polished? Madras shirt… Tailored shorts… Boating shoes…with socks no less…?

After answering a few questions, I quickly walked up the path and over the dune. I could sense him following me and I hoped that someone else was on the beach. My crush was there and I walked briskly over toward him. As usual he wore a tee shirt, faded blue jeans, sandals, and he had a beer in hand. He gazed up at me as I approached.

“Listen…” I said in a hushed and plaintive voice. “There’s a guy over there that’s creeping me out. May I sit near you?”

Without a word he placed his beer down on the sand and waved his hand indicating where I should sit. Then he stood up, removing his sun glasses and glared back where the guy stood. I could see his hands curl up and his forearm muscles tense.

“That him…?” He asked.

Glancing back toward the creep I nodded my head. Before I could say anything…like stop…my crushed began to briskly walk toward the guy. I knew what was going to happen if he caught up to the creep. And the creep must have known as well because he ran off. My crush came back and regained his place on the dune. Blue eyes…! He picked up his beer and took a sip.

“Fucking chomos…” He said under his breath as he stared out at the sea.

“Chomos…? What's chomos?”

No response…

“So how do you know about balling bait?” He asked as he turned to gaze at me.

“My grandfather fishes and I’ve been going out with him since I was quite young.” I grinned. “In a few weeks I’ll be going home to spend the summer fishing with him.”

“I have a forty one foot boat that I fish.” He said smugly. “I long line and fish traps.”

“His current vessel…” Vessel is so…it’s such a buzz type word? And I felt the need to smug him back. “…is eighty meters.”

“What….?” He was shocked. “Eighty meters…?”

Good…!

“I know how to open sea clams, cut squid and bait the hooks if it’s a long liner. And I worked below sorting and cutting out…” More buzz words… “…fish. I can fillet and split heads. I even save the livers, the milk (fish sperm) and egg sacks when we get cod or pollack for the oil. We even fry some up for a snack.”

Letting him soak a little as I snickered, I saved the best for last.

“But the last two seasons I spent a lot of time on the bridge learning to pilot and navigate.” Getting excited, I chuckled as I spoke. “I can’t wait till I finish school so I can go to sea all the time.” I grinned at him. “I want to get my master’s rating so I can captain my own vessel.”

“You’re the one they call the bean stalk?” He asked softly.

“My name is Jools.” I snapped back.

“Yeah… I know.” He heard me that time? And he remembered? “The two deck hands I have are still in upper school and they talked about you.”

“What do they say?” I huffed and folded my arms.

“Mostly…? They talk shit.” He chuckled. “They think you’re gay or something. You never seem to mess with guys and I think they’re…I don’t know…envious of whomever? But I shut them down quick. I pay them to work and not talk.”

He paused for a moment and gazed out at the sea.

“So where’s home and why would you want to go to sea?” He glanced at me. “You don’t look like the type.”

“Right now it’s Skagen.”

“Skagen…? I heard of that port.” He said softly.

“And I just love being at sea.” I grinned broadly. “It’s like…” I gazed at the sea. “It’s like being at home. You know? And life is really simple. Listen to the captain and do your job. Those are the only two rules. Simple…”

“Yeah…” He sighed. “You’re lucky. I can only fish four days a week at the most. At least for now.”

So that’s why he wasn’t around! Revelation…!

“And I need to attend this marine diesel repair course on the mainland so I can get a job as maybe an engineer aboard a vessel.” He gazed at me. “You’re very lucky. I would love to do what you’re going to do. I bet that when the time comes he’ll even certify you for a master’s license.”

“I hope so.” I sighed. “You know…?” I gazed at him. “People look out there and they see nothing but water and sky.” I turned to look out. “But I see a whole world of life. I see fish and birds and drop offs and…well…everything.”

“Yeah… So I noticed.” He laughed. “Balling bait…? Most guys around here couldn’t spot it if they were on top of it. They don’t even know that expression.”

My crush turned toward me and took off his sun glasses. His expression was quite serious…but also quite cute. I smiled and simply stared into his gorgeous blue eyes.

“What’s the longest you’ve ever been out?” He asked.

There was a different look to his eyes and his facial expression had changed. It was almost one of…dare I say it…respect?

“Ummm…” I had to think for a moment. “Six weeks…I guess? We were trawling herring and mackerel and the hauls were unbelievable. My dad had to fly me home from sea. That…was epic!” I snickered. “My dad was kind of pissed but my grandfather was even angrier. He thinks I’m his lucky charm.”

“That’s a long time at sea…for anybody.” He said and quietly stared at me. “My longest trip was four days. And with the blood clots I had for a crew it seemed way longer.” He stated sadly. “By the way…” He extended his hand. “My name’s Chris.”

“Hi…” I giggled and firmly…as firmly as I dared…shook his hand. “My name is really Yulia but I couldn’t bear being called ‘You’. ‘Hey You’ just doesn’t make it.”

Chris’s hand was quite stout…and rough. I enjoyed its brief and warm embrace…and its strength. But he didn’t let go. Instead…Chris looked at my hand closely. He turned it over and then reached for my other hand and examined it. Then he chuckled.

“These are not the hands of a fisherman…or should I say fisherwoman?” He grinned.

“Either works. Well…” I rolled my eyes and giggled. “I wear gloves. Rubber or steel mesh over silk… It depends where I’m working.” I grinned. “And I do use a lot of moisturizers and stuff.”

“They’re so soft…and smooth.” Chris said in almost a whisper. “You have such long thin fingers.” He added as he let go of my hand. “By the way…” He briskly said with a glorious smile. “I love the nail color. Very hot…”

What could I do other than to blush profusely and smile ever so shyly? Was he flirting? Was I for that matter? I felt…tingly.

“How old are you anyway?” Chris asked with a grin.

“Sixteen…” I replied softly. “That’s old enough to drink back home.” I snickered. “In public anyway…”

“You’re definitely weird. You look younger but talk a lot older.” Chris chuckled. “And weird is good. Weird is right up my alley.”

And we just talked. There was nothing in particular but it’s like we both just needed to be heard by somebody…anybody really. Someone who would simply listen to our voices… There were moments of silence but the silence was a comfortable one. Then my phone went off. I quickly pulled it out of my bag.

“Crappers…! It’s my mom.” I said frantically as I answered the call. The call was quick. “I’m late. I’ve got to get home.” I spoke softly as I got up. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“Funny how that happens when you’re having fun…” Chris laughed and stood up. “I’ll walk you to your ride. That chomo might still be lurking.”

“What’s a chomo?” I had to ask.

“It’s short for child molester.” He spat the words out. “He better hope I don’t catch him.”

Chris walked me all the way to mom’s car. And we talked all the way there. Just before I left, I put down the window.

“See you tomorrow?” I asked tentatively.

“Yeah…” Chris smiled softly. “And by the way… You don’t look anything like a bean stalk. At least not any that I’ve ever seen.” He chuckled.

Floating on air all the way home, I felt totally electric. My crush not only noticed me, he liked what he saw and who I was. My energy carried over into dinner as I told my mom and dad about him.

“He fishes.” I exclaimed. “And he has his own boat.”

“How old is he?” My dad eyed me closely.

“Ummm… I don’t know. Maybe in his twenties I guess. I mean…he’s going to school for marine diesel engines.”

“Where does he live?” Mom asked, watching me as closely as dad did.

“On the island I guess. He looks and talks like an islander anyway.”

And so it went. I didn’t tell them about the creepy guy. There was no sense to getting them upset and doing their parental protection thingy. But not even their inquisition could dampen my spirits.

After dinner, whilst they were having one of their ‘talks’, I went to my room and flopped down on my bed. My mind was full of Chris. I closed my eyes and imagined what kind of adventures we could have. Images of us fishing together filled my spirit and a prayer went out to the God of the seas…and Loki…just for good measure.

School was impossible the next day. I was tired. Sleep didn’t come easily and all I could think of was my crush and the beach all day long. Of course it took me no time at all to change out of my school clothes and into my beach stuff. I even put on lipstick and mascara…again.

His pick-up truck was in the lot. I scooted out of the car and literally ran up to the dunes. I waited a few moments to catch my breath and then did the short climb up and over on the walkway. Chris was in his usually spot in his usual mode of dress. As I walked toward him my smile became so big that it actually hurt!

“Hi…” Great opener… “Want some company?”

“Give me your phone.” Chris said calmly.

“Hello…?” I was slightly annoyed.

“Yeah… That to…” He chuckled. “Phone…!”

Handing him my phone, I loved his commanding voice. It wasn’t a harsh sound. Chris took my phone and fiddled a moment with it.

“Code…” He said as he motioned me to sit.

Having no choice but to lock the phone because I have my credit card on it, I told him the code. I wasn’t afraid of him doing anything weird with it.

“Do you give everybody the code to your phone?” He grinned up at me.

Derp…! I blushed and smiled coyly. I mean…it’s not like he’s just anybody. Is he?

“I’m putting my phone number in here.” Chris spoke as he entered the info. “If you see anyone that makes you uneasy…” He glanced up at me. “Just send me a text and I’ll come to the lot or wherever to get you. It’s under ‘C’ for Chris.”

He handed the phone back just as I settled upon my beach towel and we both gazed out at the sea. The breeze was thick with the scent of fish oil.

“They’re close in today.” I grinned.

“It’s that time of year. They’re coming up on the reef. All the birds are out there today.” Chris nodded seaward.

Glancing quickly around, I noticed that the gulls, terns, and even the pelicans were absent.

“You going out there?” I asked innocently.

“Nah… Everybody’s going to be out there and the whole commodore fleet …?” Those are sport fishermen. “It’ll be way too crowded. I’m going crabbing instead.”

“Crabbing…?” Ek-site-mint…!!! “Blue claws…? I’ve never been crabbing! I know how to eat them though.” Major giggle…

“Of course not…” Chris laughed. “You’ve only fished the North Sea.”

“And the Grand Banks too…” I grinned. “The Flemish Cap… George’s Bank… Greenland… Iceland…”

“Okay Captain Ahab…” He chuckled. “But you never fished for crabs.”

“Nopers… I do know how to grade them.” I offered. “I looked it up once just out of curiosity. I know that when we get them in the fish store we’re lucky to see number threes at best.”

Now Chris looked at me seriously. His stare made me…tingle…sort of? I guess not everyone knew the grading system.

“Tell you what.” He paused for a long moment. “If you’d like to come…”

“Really…?” I didn’t even let him finish speaking. “I’d love to! I can pilot or grade or bait or whatever…if you show me. I mean I can already pilot and grade for sure.”

Chris laughed and took a sip of his beer. Then he eyed me carefully again.

“I’ll need to get the okay from your folks though. And you’ll need to be at the boat by six. Can you do that?”

“I’ll get my dad to bring me.” I responded thoughtfully. “When can I go?”

“Well… How’s Sunday? If I don’t make my catch by then it won’t matter.” He spoke quite seriously. “And you’ve got to know that this is my living. It’s not like a date on the water.”

“I’m quite accustomed to working for my keep.” I huffed and crossed my arms.

“Okay…okay… I bet you are.” Chris laughed again. “My draft is too deep for the flats but I know an island that has a small bay I can get into.”

“If you put in the numbers…I’ll get you there.” I said smugly.

“The numbers…?” Chris grinned.

“Yeah… I can read charts and I know how to work course plotters.”

“We’ll see.” He spoke with a smile.

We spent the afternoon talking about crabbing and fishing. His interest was as totally manic as mine. I had a ton of questions about crab fishing and he was patient enough to answer them all. I guess there weren’t many people as interested in what he does as I was. And he made a clear and very sharp point of telling me that his crew was less than the best.

But only fishing four days a week held Chris at a disadvantage. He could only get upper schoolers who wanted some extra money. They thought that a commercial fishing job sounded really cool to their girlfriends. And being a boat captain seemed to be the dream job of every guy on the island.

My mom and dad weren’t quite as enthusiastic about the trip. My dad was more than clear with only a few words.

“I wish to meet him. This…Chris...” He stated quite firmly and my mom nodded.

“You really know nothing about him.” Mom said flatly.

Knowing better than to try and convince them he was not some kind of pervert, I simply nodded. I didn’t mention that I had his phone number or anything. The less they knew the better off I was. I would wait to see him tomorrow and ask if he minded a major inquisition by my folks.

That night as I rested upon my bed, my thoughts were only of Chris, crab fishing, Chris and crab fishing, and Chris…and crab fishing. There was no way I was ready to sleep. Even the hot bath couldn’t stop my mind from thinking and imagining. So I got up, went to my trusty desk top puter, checked the time, and wrote an e-mail to my grandfather.

At least once a week…every week…I checked in with him. Usually I simply wanted to know how he was. Of course I wanted a full report of how the fishing was. But this time I wrote about Chris. I told him everything including Chris’s help with the creepy guy. And I especially told him about Chris learning marine diesels. All to often my emotions worked faster than my mind.

Of course there was no way I was leaving out the possibility of me going crabbing with Chris. I wrote that he had his own boat and crew. My excited spirit flowed out through my hands as I wrote word after word. I suddenly had something approaching novel length? And…it was in English! I never write him in English!

That realization plus having to rewrite the entire e-mail in Danish finally depleted me. He could read and speak English, and several other languages, quite well. But only Dansk with me. I knew I would have a response by morning. My grandfather had instant alert to e-mails over the ship’s system. And if he slept, it was usually on the bunk in his day cabin where all news reached him first.

First thing after I woke up…okay…maybe the second thing…I checked my e-mail. Sure enough there was his response. My grandfather was having a good catch and would be returning to port a week early. As usual he was anticipating my summer return. ‘As for your new friend, see how it is with him.’ That was all but a personal invite to ship out with him!

But that also meant I needed to see how Chris worked his fishing day. The one thing my grandfather wouldn’t tolerate is a ‘sloppy operation’ as he called it. Everything onboard his vessel had to be safety first. Stopping operations for someone getting injured and air evacuated was very costly. Perfect operating order waylaid that concern quite a bit. And a sloppy crew meant less than desirable catches.

Of course explaining that my folks wanted to check Chris out became my main concern the next day. I mean it’s not like we’re going on a date or anything. And simply saying ‘my folks want to check you out’ wasn’t exactly…tactful? So I slowly and carefully worded my request when I saw him.

“So…” He grinned slyly. “Your folks want to check me out. Why didn’t you just say that?”

Derp…! My ‘derp’ expression caused him to break up laughing. He almost spilt his beer.

“Sure… Of course…” Chris finally said with a grin. “That makes perfect sense. I would do the same if it was my daughter.”

So I called my mom and asked if Chris could come over when I came back.

“Of course Yuli…” Always Yuli…never Jools…! “Bring this new friend. I will set out a plate for him.”

Of course she would. Nobody ever left our house with an empty stomach or a dry mouth.

“Well…?” I grinned sheepishly. “I think you’re invited for dinner?”

“We’ll see.” Chris snickered. “They may hate me on sight. Anyway…I need to be up early tomorrow so I have an easy out. Just in the event… You know?”

Chris followed me home in his pickup truck. He was totally gronked by our house.

“Shit…! This place is epic.” He said with wonder. “I’ve seen these houses before but I’ve never been up close to one.”

“It’s not ours.” I stated quickly. “My dad leased it and the government picks up some the cost. They even paid to have us move.”

“What does he do for them?”

“He’s into marine engineering and propulsion systems and my mom’s into math? They kind of work as a team but she does it from home.” I giggled as we walked up the steps to the front doors. “It works out great for me because I get the car after school.”

We walked in and I dropped my beach bag by the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. I took Chris by the hand and led him through the house and into the heart of our home; the kitchen. Mom was busy fussing with the usual fair. I could smell the vinegar and the smoked aroma and my tummy growled.

“Mor…?” That’s familial Dansk for mom. “This is Chris.”

“Hi…” Chris offered his hand…at arm’s length. “Chris Wilson…”

“Ah… It is good to meet you.” She quickly shook his hand and smiled warmly. “Wilson… Perhaps there’s a bit of us in you. I am Astrid. My husband is on his way. Maybe you would like a drink? We do have some decent beer.”

“Ummm…” Chris smiled and glanced at me. I nodded enthusiastically. “Sure… That would be super. Thanks…”

Quickly scurrying off to the pantry, where the ‘good’ stuff was kept, I retrieved two bottles of the Ceres dark beer. But my mom doesn’t miss a thing.

“Ah…! Thank you Yuli… I had the taste for one.” She grinned wryly.

“Mor…!” I whined.

“You may have one with the dinner.” She grinned and gazed at Chris. “You see how it is with daughters.” Mom laughed.

As Chris sipped his beer and gazed around, mom and I discussed my day. Mom and dad always waited for one another when something important was being discussed. I noticed Chris staring at one of the bowls on the kitchen island.

“Is that mackerel?” He asked.

“It is.” Mom replied with a grin. “It’s pickled. I hope you don’t mind the bones.”

They were mackerel steaks prepared much the way herring is pickled. It’s kind of like Nordic soul food? That and smoked herring…

“And this is smoked herring.” Mom pointed at the platter. “We receive a shipment of foods from home every two or three weeks. We don’t feel so…what is the word…” She gazed off for a moment. “…home sick?”

“That I understand. I’m accustomed to seeing the fish prepared the other way around.” Chris chuckled.

“We have that as well. If I would have known you were coming earlier I would have prepared a seafood soup with grouper…or better yet a cod fish. The heads and bones make for a good base. And the shoulders broil out well.”

“My mom makes amazing chowder. It goes right to the heart and squeezes.” I snickered.

“Yuli…?” Mom pointed at the bowl and platter.

It was my job to help out with the dinner. Although the kitchen had an eat-in area, we loved dining in the Florida room off the kitchen. With its view of the sea and the ocean breeze coming through the open windows, we could almost feel at home.

Mom had already set the table having me sit opposite Chris. It would be a hard choice whether to look at the sea…or Chris. Mom grilled pork chops with potatoes and onions. She also prepared Brussel sprouts dripping in butter and garlic. I threw together an assortment of baked breads and condiments for the fish. Chopped onions, sour cream, capers and blue cheese…of course…

Mom and Chris spoke for a time until I heard the front door open. My dad had arrived. I quickly left the room and went to greet him at the door with a hug and a kiss on his cheek. He chuckled and returned my favors in kind.

“Well… Somebody’s quite happy.” He grinned.

“Chris is here. He’s staying for dinner so you can kind of…”

“Check him out…? Is that how you say it?” Dad laughed.

Grabbing his hand, I tugged him toward the sun room. Dad tossed his attaché onto his architect’s desk as he entered the room in my tow. Chris came from where he stood speaking with my mom. He introduced himself and offered his hand.

“Good to meet you Chris. I am Erik.” Dad grinned. “I am told you are studying diesel.”

“Yes sir…” Brownie points for the boy…?

“And what do you make of this?” Dad showed him a drawing on the board.

Chris looked at the drawing. His finger traced something as it travelled across the sketch. Then his index and pinkie touched the paper at two different points.

“Well…” He sighed. “This looks like some sort of fluid driven system.” He suddenly glanced at my father with a quizzical expression. “Steam…?”

“Very good…!” Dad exclaimed.

“But what vessels use steam?” Chris asked with a totally puzzled expression.

“Do you understand diesel electric systems?” Dad quickly asked.

“Yeah…? Sort of…” Chris frowned. “I’m kind of getting that on my own. The electric part that is…”

“Yes…” Dad smiled. “That is good. Do you know LNG propulsion systems?”

“Nobody uses that here but I’m also learning them anyway. It’s the future.”

“In your country it may be the future. But back home the future is here. We already have LNG vessels working and many more on the boards.” He patted Chris on the back as he spoke. “It’s quite that good you look to the future.”

When we sat down to eat, Chris was immediately taken by the mackerel and the herring. He ate as though this was his last meal on earth. My folks grinned. I know they were enjoying him enjoying these treats from back home. And as Chris slowly told the story of his interrupted youth, I could tell he was…shy about it?

Though born on the island, Chris had to move with his mother to the Keys when his father left them. Evidentially his dad couldn’t put up with his wife’s drinking and carousing. Chris was three at the time. Then his mother was killed driving drunk. She ran off the road and drowned in a canal.

Chris then moved to his mother’s brother and his wife. When he was six, Chris was already a veteran of fishing boats. He mated for his uncle. Whilst attending school in the Keys he discovered that everyone wanted to be a fishing captain and guide millionaires around the back country waters or some channel, or on the reef, to pin-hook (that’s fishing with a rod, reel and hook) tarpon, bonefish, yellowtail or snapper.

But this was not to be for Chris. He loved being at sea and the half day or full day trips with tourists…even though it was good money and helped the ‘conchs’ survive…was not enough. So he moved back to the island when he graduated upper school.

With the money he saved and a loan from his uncle, Chris bought his boat. He was never very close to his aunt or uncle other than for the fishing. But they were decent to him and him toward them. He rarely mentioned them but was always kindly when he did.

As the discussion turned to more pleasant and timely matters, Chris answered mom and dad’s questions about the impending trip. He proudly displayed his ‘six pack’ license that allowed him, to take up to six passengers on his vessel as well as his commercial fishing and crabbing licenses. They were on his phone…of course.

“I passed the test when I was eighteen.” He chuckled. ‘And the permits…” He swiped to them on his phone. “…were even easier. I didn’t even have my ‘six pack’ at the time, but the state fouled up and gave to me anyway. God bless Florida.” Chris snickered.

“I have all the gear Jools will need and there will be my two…” He sneered slightly. “…crew men. Although I use the word ‘men’ lightly…! I still need to tell them what to do.” Chris snorted. “They’re very slow learners.”

And as if to reassure them, Chris several times stated…once looking directly at me…that we were going crabbing and only crabbing! Did he suspect? Hmmm… Or maybe it was simply an admonition before the fact…as if…that this was a money trip. Suddenly he received a text message. He looked at it briefly, sighed, and texted back.

“Shit…” Chris muttered softly and then looked at my folks sheepishly. “Sorry…”

“A problem…?” My dad asked seriously.

“My two rocket scientist crewmen forgot to switch over the gear after school today. They wanted to do it tonight but I don’t want those two doing anything after dark. I’ll still need them in the morning.” He laughed and shook his head. “We’ll just need to start earlier.”

Chris stood up and began to gather his dishes and flatware.

“I truly hate to eat and run. But I really need to be up early tomorrow.” His smile said everything as he looked at my dad, and then my mom. “This was a true treat folks. A very rare treat…”

“We will do it again Chris.” Mom grinned. “Anyone who likes pickled mackerel and smoked herring is welcomed in our home any time. And please…leave the dishes. Yuli must earn her keep as well.” Mom smiled at me wryly.

“If you folks can have Jools at the boat by six…that would be great.”

“This is not a problem.” My dad said. “What time may we expect her so that I can fetch her?”

‘Fetch…’? My dad is going Southern?

“Well…” Chris drawled. “If the fishing is bad, we’ll be in by two or three. If it’s good…we’ll be in by six. I do need to get to the market so it won’t be later than that.”

After hands were shaken once again and the goodbyes said, we all followed Chris to the front doors. I walked him down to his pickup. The moment my folks closed the door, I hopped upon Chris and hugged him. I was totally thrilled.

Of course Chris didn’t know quite how to take it. He chuckled and gave me a quick hug. Then he took me by my shoulders and pushed me off to arm’s length. He smiled and gazed at me.

“We’re just going fishing.” He said.

“I know! I know! I’m going fishing!”

My shouts of joy turned to laughter as I skipped and sang my way back up the steps. I must have made quite the sight but I didn’t care. I was going fishing! I would be at sea once again. And…dare I say it…with a friend…?

Completing my kitchen chores in record time, much to my mom’s shocked amazement, I ran up the steps to my bedroom. Deep in the dark recesses of my closet, I pulled out my sea bag. I dumped its contents upon my bed and began to sort through the gear I’d need for the trip.

My grandfather got me a complete set of commercial grade gear before my last trip. I’d outgrown the last set. I sorted out the bibbed trousers, my deck boots, the silk glove liners, and both pairs of work gloves. The gear was heavy duty, especially for Florida waters, but ‘uber’ strong and durable. The boots had safety caps and rose up to mid-calf.

Hanging up my bib trousers, I placed my sea boots and silk glove liners aside. I also placed one pair my work gloves alongside the boots and tucked my two knives, one for cutting out and the other a heavy bladed work knife, into one boot. Then I proceeded to watch every crabbing viddie on YouTube until I viewed everything and anything of interest.

The entire process is relatively easy. It’s a little like long lining but crab pots are used instead of hooks. And the crabs go directly into an ice water bath to ‘slow’ them. Then they can be safely sorted without worrying about getting pinched by their claws.

The rest of the week I was virtually useless. I would sit on my spot on the dune after school and dream of huge catches. And school was a waste of time. I was so far ahead with simple subjects they labelled ‘advanced’ or ‘AP’ that even daydreaming couldn’t affect my work. Only one more year to do and I was out anyway.

Mom and dad could sense my excitement and tenseness. But they knew the way I always would become when going to sea was in my immediate future. I can’t say they were thrilled with my plans or dreams for the future. Dad especially tried often to steer me in other directions. But they could also easily understand why the sea was in my blood. And Chris understood as well.

I was up at five on Sunday. Getting ready for the elements was already such a ritual that I didn’t even need to think of what to do. After showering thoroughly, Mom helped slather me in sun screen. Then I donned the barely necessary sports bra and lightweight long sleeved cotton top. Jean shorts came next followed by my silk knee high socks.

I always cleaned my gear thoroughly so donning my bibbed trousers and sea boots didn’t foul the air around me. My utility belt held the two knives; the filet knife on the left and the heavy work knife on the right where it could be easily reached. The jacket wouldn’t be necessary but a floppy wide brimmed hat with a chin strap would. With my phone and ID in my jean pocket along with ten dollars and lip balm, I was set.

Dad was also more than ready with the lunch my mom prepared, a jug of water, several energy drinks, and my sunglasses. I was as ready as I ever would be for the day. We got into my dad’s car and he drove me to the small harbor at the south end of the island.

Arriving at the wharf at five thirty, it wasn’t hard to spot Chris and his boat. He had the worst spot on the pier; the one furthest from land. As I walked down to the end of the pier, I noticed my dad watching until I waved that I had found Chris’s boat.

The boat was christened ‘Lady Cliodhna’. I was to find out that Cliodhna was the Celtic sea goddess. The moment he saw me Chris left his chores and jumped up onto the pier. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“Now that’s the way a deck hand should look.” He exclaimed loud enough for his crew to hear and turn to look.

“The bean pole…?” One said.

“Hey…!” Chris bellowed. “We’ll have none of that here!” He scowled. “At least she looks like a fisherman.” He turned and grinned at me. “Or should it be fisherwoman?”

“Oh I don’t care.” I smiled shyly.

“And her name is Jools, you crap heads!” He snarled at them. “Come on board and I’ll show you the deal.”

Chris’s boat was a typical coastal fisher. A long canopy extended from the helm station to the stern giving relief from the sun. Its top was also a convenient surface for stowing traps and pots. On deck just aft the helm station were two engine boxes. Their surfaces provided excellent work spaces.

A long work table ran down the center of the deck for tending the traps…or today…the pots. There were various tubs stacked to one side along with large accompanying ice chests. A ten gallon water jug was fixed near the helm and electronic gear…the plotter, radar, digital depth recorder and radios…lined the combing creating a display quite visible and reachable from the helm.

Power blocks for pulling lines were on each side of the vessel. I was quite familiar with their way larger brothers and knew how to work them. Chris took me forward to the small cabin which held the head (that’s the toilet), a small galley with refrigerator, a two burner propane stove and a stainless steel wash basin.

Forward of that was a ‘vee’ berth and the anchor rode (that’s sea talk for line) locker. The ‘vee’ berth held life vests and other safety gear. Everything was laid out and in good order and easy to get to. Two very large fire extinguishers hung on either side of the bulkhead and were in easy reach from the helm.

“Does she know what she’s doing?” One guy asked.

“Jools…? This is Brian and the other crap head is Kevin. And yes…” He turned toward Kevin. “She works eighty meter trawlers in her spare time.” He snapped. “And she comes prepared to work without spending half an hour gearing up first!”

Both guys blushed at Chris’s reprimand.

The engines, two diesels, were already running and warmed up. I gazed slowly around the boat spotting where all the equipment was located; boat hooks and gaffs and other sundry tools of the trade.

Then I stood at the helm. I recognized the Furuno equipment and knew how to work it. I looked at the various gauges, ‘RPMs’, oil pressure, engine temperature, etc. and the double throttle and gear levels.

Then I walked to the gunnels to see where the spring lines were cleated. Aside from the age and the wear and tear typical of a working vessel, everything was not only ‘ship shape’, but just as one would expect. Then Chris startled me.

“Think you can take us out?” He asked with a sly grin.

“Oh absolutely…!” I said quite excitedly.

Brian and Kevin looked at Chris…and then at me…with shock. It was obvious they had never done that before. And now a girl was going to show them up. The tide was incoming…I had checked the night before…and the winds fair.

“Spring lines first.” I ordered as I took my place at the helm.

When they took their places up the gunnels to release lines they looked toward me.

“Away springs...” I said.

Once released they quickly came back to the stern.

“Away stern lines…”

They complied and I put both gear levels in forward. The boat slowly left the pier and cleared both mooring poles without touching them at all. As soon as the boat cleared them with some room to spare, I reversed the starboard engine and the boat swung calmly toward the channel. Then I put back into gear and we moved out toward the inter-coastal.

Wanting to know if I did it right, I gazed back at Chris. He stood with his arms crossed and watching closely. He didn’t smile. He simply nodded and came forward to the chart plotter.

“This will be our course.” He used his finger to trace the way on the screen. “The inlet is witchy; a class ‘D’ so read the water. The channel tends to shift every so often. You can read the deep water and keep the bow into the waves. It should be an easy out but…”

Chris didn’t need to finish his sentence. ‘Beware’ is the cardinal word at all times when one is underway. As I followed the course out onto the sea and toward the key he wanted to fish, Chris and his crew readied the pots.

Each pot had a number tag. In the center was the bait trap and Chris and his crew began to cut open the mullet and stuff them into the bait trap. By the time the pots were all baited, we had arrived at the entrance of the channel semi-hidden by the overgrown foliage.

With an incoming tide, I guessed we had a good eight hours of water depth to fish. As I entered the channel, Chris came to my side.

“Well…” He said gazing straight ahead at the channel. “That got done in record time. Of course I had a good pilot.”

“Thanks…” I grinned and blushed.

“I’ll take the wheel now.” We sifted positions. “I’m going to try several spots I haven’t fished before. Why don’t you watch what they’re doing. I’m sure it’ll be familiar.” He chuckled. “By the way… That gear and throttle move at the dock… That’s the way to do it and most don’t.” Chris smiled.

He smiled! He smiled and I tingled!

Both Brian and Kevin were readying the pots. They attached the first four to shackles spliced into the line and then readied the buoy attached to the head of the line. All of this was primitive to the way we fished. I was accustomed to automated systems where I only had to place the baits on a conveyor. But I knew what to do none-the-less.

Chris suddenly slowed his boat.

“Get ready.” He shouted over the engine noise. “Now…!”

Brian tossed the buoy out marking the line, and then the pots. As he tossed the pots out Kevin attached the rest one by one. The line was set with a buoy on the tag end and we went to the next piece of ground. We set four lines of twelve pots in about half an hour in four different locations. Chris put the engines in neutral and we waited.

“I like them to set for about half an hour.” He spoke softly as he sat on the helm seat. “They don’t move so quick. Notice anything familiar?” He smiled softly.

“Well…? Yeah…!” I smiled as the memories flooded back of past voyages. “It’s kind of like long lining. Just the scale is different.”

“Yeah…” Chris snorted and chuckled. “Like…eighty meters different…”

“I can do what they’re doing.” I said off handedly. “It’s really no biggy.”

Chris laughed…heartily.

“I have no doubt of that. But today you’re more important as a pilot so that I can work with those two idiots.” He said and leaned closer to me. “Neither one of them has taken this boat out. They think they’re not ready.” He snickered. “They’re either too scared or just not interested.”

He grinned and gazed at his two crewmen…or should it be ‘crew boys’…trying to bask in the sun.

“What do I do when it’s time to haul the pots?”

“Brian hauls and Kevin takes the pot and dumps the crabs into an ice bath.”

“Yeah… To slow them down…” I grinned.

“YouTube…?” Chris grinned.

“Yeah…” I blushed. “I wanted an idea of how it’s done.”

“Good… Those two only know TikTok. You can’t learn to fish there.” He snorted and frowned.

We spoke for a while and it was easy…pleasant. It just seemed that we were both on the same wave length. When I went below to fetch a drink, I asked Chris if he wanted one. He did and I brought one up with a smile. After he drank several sips, Chris put the engines in gear and stepped the tide (that means he was barely moving forward against the tide).

“Ice up…!” He shouted. “We’re going to pull them.”

Brian and Kevin began to fill the huge tub with two fifty pound bags of ice from the massive cooler. Once filled to the top they grabbed a hose and turned on a pump. The tube began to fill with sea water. They stopped when the tub was three quarters full with the ice peaking over the top. Chris then spoke to me.

“You make sure they all go into the bath and then you’ll sort them. I have several measures on the sorting table. The ‘ones’ go into the yellow crates.” He grinned. “That’s the gold. The twos go into the red. They’re the silver. The threes in the green and the fours in the blue… Those are the bronze.” He chuckled.

“You don’t need to be too concerned with the blue crate. They’re factory meat anyway. The crates will be heavy so ask Brian to move them if you can’t. But…?” Chris lilted. “I have a feeling you’ll surprise me…as usual.” Chris chuckled.

As the process of hauling the pots began, Brian usual the power block simply as a line guide, the pots began to come up. The first two yielded nothing by spider crabs. They’re way disgusting looking to eat and get tossed over the side. The next two yielded nice sized crabs and the rest yielded amazing number ones and twos.

And as Brian dumped and Kevin reset, the bath was rapidly filling. By the end of the pull the ice bath, at least two hundred gallon in size, was topped off. As we steered for the next line, I began to sort the crabs out by size. By the time we reached the second line I’d filled one yellow crate, two red, and half a green.

The same thing occurred at the other three lines. We now had five crates of yellows, six red and four green. Nothing was small enough for the blue crates. And yes…I moved the crates all on my ownsome. The guys’ reaction was nothing compared to that of Chris.

“Faaahhhk…!” He grinned broadly. “Now I know why your grandfather is so hot to get you back onboard. Do you do this for him as well? I mean, this is already a good day and we haven’t even begun.”

‘Thank you Njǫror…’ I thought and smiled.

“Well…?” Now I lilted. “He seems to think I’m some sort of sea goddess or something who’s come to help him. Although I think it’s really his ploy to get me back for the summer.” I snickered. “As if he needed one.”

Chris just laughed and with each haul his laugh grew louder. Nobody aboard had ever seen such a haul of prime crabs. I ran out of yellow crates so we began to use the blue ones for the big ones. We ran out of those so we simply left the remainders in the bath and headed back for the dock.

On the way back all three began to wash down the pots with a separate hose. This one pumped from the fresh water tank. They washed the salt off of everything. They then put ice chips atop each filled crate to keep the crabs alive for the market.

Chris allowed me to dock the boat. With the tide now outgoing and the wind still fair, I was able to simply use the throttles to back her in. The guys were duly impressed. Chris was duly impressed. And I giggled because this was a first for me! I knew I could do it but I never had the chance…before.

We all hauled crates to Chris’s pickup. Soon had the crates stacked high and very full. Since there would be no fishing tomorrow, Chris paid off his guys and locked up the boat. He turned to me and smiled.

“And it’s not even six.” He chuckled. “Call your folks and tell them I’ll be dropping you off.”

“Can I go to the market with you? I’ve never seen that end of things and it should be cool to watch.”

“It’s actually pretty boring. They weigh the catch by size and you get paid with a check.” Chris smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“But I just want to see what a fish market looks like.” I whined. “Pleeeese…?” A truly epic whine…of good vintage…an bouquet…!

Tears would have been better but I didn’t think that would play well with Chris. Anyway…I was never much of a drama queen.

“Look…” He sighed. “Call your folks and ask them. You do have school tomorrow and you have to be exhausted after a day like today.”

Fair enough… I called them and mom told me to come home. Her reasoning was pretty much the same as Chris’s. Meh…! As I turned to tell him, I saw that he was counting out money.

“Here…” Chris held out his hand and there was money in his fist. “Take this. You earned it.”

“I can’t take your money.” I whispered and gazed downward. “And they want me to come home.”

“Okay…” Chris smiled softly. “Let’s get you home. But take the money. It’s important to me.”

So I reluctantly did. After all, it was questionable who did whom the biggest service. Working on his boat was nothing short of a blessing for me. And I could always save the money to get him a set of ‘A’ number one Danish commercial fishing gear like mine. At least now I could afford the bibbed trousers.

It wasn’t until I sat down in the cab of his truck that I suddenly felt totally exhausted…both physically and mentally. I had trouble keeping my eyes opened and the air conditioning was like a cool bath chilling me down from the day. I was barely awake when Chris pulled into the driveway.

“Okay Jools…” He turned toward me. “Go get a big pot and I’ll give you a dozen of the big ones. I’m sure your folks will love them.”

We both got out and, as I ran up the steps and into the house, Chris got up on the rear bumper to retrieve the crabs under the melting ice on top. I returned with two of mom’s largest soup pots and both my mom and dad. After exchanging greetings and handshakes, Chris put twelve really huge and very slow crabs into the pots.

“Jools did well today.” Chris beamed as he hopped down off the truck’s bed. “She may very well be a sea goddess who’s come to help me fish.” He grinned slyly and winked at me. “This is a record crab catch for me.”

“Ja…” Mom laughed. “You see the way it is with her.”

“And I would guess Yuli’s told you about her Farfar.” Dad laughed. “But it is truly his nose…” Dad tapped his nose twice with his finger. “This tells him where to make the catch. Sometimes hundreds…sometimes a thousand miles away... But he knows. It is an instinct.”

“And a really good log book…” I snickered.

“I will put these up to cook now.” Mom began to turn toward the house. “Would you like to stay for some dinner?” She gazed back at Chris.

“Yes Chris…” Dad immediately chimed in. “There is plenty and you are most welcomed in our home.”

“I wish I could.” Chris said sadly. “But I do need to go to the market and then get ready for school tomorrow.” He glanced at me and arched an eye brow with a wry grin. “Remember…? School…?” He turned back toward mom and dad. “But I do appreciate the offer. Thanks very much…”

As mom and dad went up to the house and went in, Chris slowly turned to me.

“If your folks are alright with it…and depending on what we’re fishing for…maybe you’d like to come out again next Sunday?”

Making more of a statement than a question...? But whatever…! I leapt toward him, hugged him, and placed my cheek against his chest. He was rich with the scent of the sea and the day’s labors.

My actions totally caught him by surprise and he hesitantly, and delicately, placed his arms around me briefly. Then Chris took me by my shoulders and pushed me gently off to arm’s length. He chuckled…nervously…and he shook his head with a smile.

“Just fishing…” He admonished with a faux scowl. “And only fishing…”

Watching as Chris drove off, I felt a pang…of loneliness…or emptiness? I knew I was crushing and burning but I didn’t care. Chris’s arms felt so totally good, so totally right, and so totally perfect as he embraced me. And the memory of his scent, so very rich from the day, would now always and forever be imprinted in my mind.

Of course the entire day’s events had to be told during dinner. I did so with only half a mind. The other half was still out crabbing with Chris. The room swayed slightly like the gentle pitch and roll of the boat. That is how it is after the first day on the sea.

And later in bed, and after an epic shower with me, my bib trousers and boots, I could really feel the sway. It rocked me to sleep as when I was but a baby at sea surrounded by life jackets on the captain’s day bed. And it would do the same tonight. There would be no foul surprises as I dreamt of being the captain of my own ship.

But my ship hit a reef when my alarm sounded. As I sat up on the edge of my bed, my arms felt as though they’d been punched all night. And my legs…my thighs…my back…felt even worse. My shoulders and butt ached as well. My entire body felt like lead. It hurt to move anyway so I relished the weight of my arms and legs pinning me to where I sat.

Finally conceding the day to my pain, and without much inner conflict at all I should add, I got back into bed and stared at the ceiling. My mom finally came up and opened my bedroom door. She gazed at me and shook her head with that amazing motherly smile. Mom then spoke in Dansk.

“So this is how it is for you today?” Mom snickered. “One day out and you are finished? What would your grandfather say about this?”

I replied in kind as best I could…

“Meh…” No translation necessary… “I hurt all over. And I am still very tired.” I moaned.

“And you want to fish…? This is how it is when you fish.” Mom smiled wryly as she crossed her arms. “If you would like…I will call the school.”

“That would be good.” I moaned…and without overplaying how I felt.

“You should rest. And take a good hot shower.” Mom again smiled wryly. “And…” She gazed off for a moment. “You should stay at home all day and rest. The beach in the back is as far as you go today.”

Mom let me digest that for a moment. Then I realized what she was truly saying. No beach...no Chris…!

“But Mor…” I whined.

“That is how it is for you today.” She grinned. “Or…? You can shower and I will drive you to school.”

Some choice…! What choice…? School…! And then Chris…!

Rolling back out of bed and grimacing the entire time, I went to my bathroom. Mom grinned and nodded. The hot water did help my pains for sure. And I took something for the aching. Mom did help me get dressed and readied. My breakfast, a warm bun with butter and coffee, brought even more life back into my body.

Though I physically had to drag my way along, school was an entirely new experience that day. Some of the guys, especially the ones who fished, nodded and smiled at me. I nodded and demurely smiled back. They were the ‘bad boys’. They were the ones that the girls ran after? Kevin even stopped me in the hallway.

“I never seen a girl toss full bins like that.” He laughed. “In fact there aren’t many guys who can do that.”

“I don’t know.” I smiled, blushed, and shrugged my shoulders. “I guess it kind of runs in the family? I just really get into it.”
“You going to fish with Chris this summer?”

This was way too good to pass up. It would make up for a small…a very tiny…part of the abuse I’ve had to suffer for not being a native islander.

“No…” Majorly faux sadness… “I’m shipping out with my grandfather. He captain’s an eighty meter fishing vessel.”

“Oh…” Kevin managed with a shocked expression. “So this must be like…amateur hour for you.”

There was no malice in his voice. And his expression was one of innocence…almost? I couldn’t help but smile warmly.

“It doesn’t matter. Whether it’s eight feet, eighteen feet, or eighty meters, as long as it’s on the water, I’m at home. After all, fishing is fishing no matter where or how big the vessel is.”

Kevin smiled. And two other guys I knew fished joined us and were now listening. I gazed at them and smiled. They seemed almost captivated by what I was saying. One guy even nodded at the being ‘at home’ thingy.

“Out there…?” I motioned my chin seaward. “I’m free…” I waved my free arm around me. “…from all this crap.”

The guys all nodded. They understood. There were too many rules on land. Too many people ready to tell you what they think you should think and do. On a ship there are the two rules. Do whatever the captain says and do your job. So they get on their boats and go to fish and feel life as it really should be felt.

“Are you gay or something?” A female voice spewed. “I know! You must be one of those tranny freaks. You think you’re a man or something!”

What could I say or do? Her tone said it all. She wasn’t clocking me. She was just being nasty.

“Shut the fuck up slut!” Kevin growled and he turned toward me again. “She’s pissed off that you’re probably the only one on this rock she hasn’t fucked…yet.” He spoke in a not to soft voice as he glanced at her again. “At least she works for a living. And not on her back either!”

The girl was so shocked and embarrassed that she simply melted away into the group that had gathered. I knew her by sight but not her name. She was an islander and always had a pack of guys around her. Maybe Kevin was right…about the slut thingy? After all, there really wasn’t much to do around here at night.

And who cares who she chooses to have sex with? Or with how many…? I shudder to think about what they might do to me if my truth became known. At least Kevin shut her up.

Anyway…what an amazing day! This was the very first time I ever left school feeling good about being at school. When I told my mother what had happened, she simply smiled and nodded. Mom knew I was very unhappy being at the school. But with only one year left, there was no sense in changing.

This day did bring an entirely new perspective to my humble life. I couldn’t wait to share my joy with Chris. Shedding my school attire, I quickly jumped into ‘beach’. Slathered, watered, and bedecked with my bag and hat, I ran…make that walked quickly because I still ached…from the house, to the car, and then to ‘our’ beach.

Being a bundle of energy, and not being able to resist, I ran up to where Chris sat. I dropped to my knees and hugged him. Without thinking I kissed him…on the lips no less! He pushed me off and stared at me.

“What was that?” He demanded with a shocked expression.

In non-stop fashion I related what had happened at school; complete with that girl being nasty. I did so kneeling in front of him and my eyes never leaving his.

“Well…?” He kind of drawled. “I have some good news and some bad news.”

My smiled quickly faded. I wasn’t feeling good energy from him.

“The good news is that you’ve been accepted as a ‘bubba’.” No smile… “The bad news is that you can never…not ever…do that again. You’re only sixteen and that’s a possible chomo charge at best, and sexual assault or rape on top of that worst. You’re walking jail bait.”

“But back home…” I protested.

“You’re not back home. This is the state of Florida and in Florida…being with you that way is very bad news…for both of us.” Chris’s face reddened.

“But I would never…” I began to whine…another vintage year no less.

“You don’t have to. If somebody…anybody…like that girl at school…? If anybody decided to file some sort of complaint…I would be finished for life. Do you understand? You can’t be copping feelings about me. It just won’t work.”

“But…” I stuttered.

“Look Jools…” Chris sighed and patted the sand next to him. “You impressed the shit out of me yesterday. You weren’t just some little girl faking it. You knew what you were doing and you put yourself into it like an real adult.” He gazed warmly at me. “And for sure I know you’re…”
He turned his face away for a moment. “You have this…this crush on me.”

Nodding, I clasped my knees with my arms and hung my head.

“We might go long lining and if you still want to come. And you’ll really need to be focused.” Chris said solemnly. “You can’t be thinking about anything other than what you’re doing. And you especially can’t be thinking about me. I know this might hurt but it doesn’t compare to the hurt we both could get.”

Hard concentrating…? That doesn’t begin to describe it! My heart was sinking but the pumps were still bailing. So…tears did begin to form but I wouldn’t allow them to drop.

“You’re going to be at the wheel. So you can either go crushing…” Chris smiled gently. “Or you can go fishing. The choice is yours.”

Sighing, I took a moment to think of what to say. Knowing and saying are definitely different. I gently wiped at my eyes, put my knees down, and inhaled the scent of the sea. A day at sea and hours of freedom were worth two pounds of flesh. Looking at Chris, I could see he already knew my answer.

“Let’s go fishing.” I simply said.

With a warm smile, Chris began to describe the ‘art’ of long lining. Though I already knew how to do it, I’d never seen it done on a small vessel. I listened to him totally enrapt. It’s like the passion of a person speaking about that which causes said passion, and their energy jumps over to you?

“Listen… I can also bait and sort if you’d like. I’ve done baiting before.” I said as solemnly. Then I really perked up. “I even have steel mesh gloves.” I giggled but then spoke softly. “Is it me? I mean you’re just not into me?”

Chris shook his head, took a swig of his ever present beer, turned his head away and laughed.

“Yuli…?” That got my attention. “In the event you never noticed, you are totally jail bait. You’re a cherry bomb. Didn’t you notice the way that idiot Brian and that other idiot Kevin looked at you?” Chris’s smile lessened and then he spoke softly. “I just can’t do that with you.”

Not understanding my own feelings, I had to let it go…for the moment. I couldn’t let what I was feeling taint ‘us’ any longer. So I sighed…faking relief…I hoped…smiled and turned the talk back to fishing. The burning had become a roaring fire.

Later that night, up in my bedroom, I surfed the net for the style of fishing we were going to do; small boat long lining. But my mind was truly elsewhere. Just what did ‘I just can’t do that with you’ mean? But then again, if he didn’t want me around he never would have given me that option.

I felt his energy and I’m sure he felt mine. Chris knew exactly how I felt about him. And we always seemed to connect when we talked. It was kind of weird. You could look at it as me being just another deck hand that was better than the crew he already had. But we both knew I was, and could be, so much more.

But then again the first invite was from him after we had spoken a few times. And now the invite was because of what I could do. That in itself was an amazing feeling. What Chris was doing was so much closer to the roots of who we once were. It’s totally hands on. These thoughts kept swirling around in my head.

Finally…when I realized that my mind had gone blank…it was time for bed. I was exhausted. A nice hot shower eased my still slightly aching body. I sent an e-mail to my grandfather simply stating Chris was good. A longer one would need to wait for the next day.

School once again had proved to be amazing. I received knowing nods, a few smiles, and even three ‘hiya’ greetings. This one guy even came up to me and asked where we’d gone crabbing but it wasn’t my place to say. And I knew he would have asked either Brian or Kevin and got no answer.

So I just told him that Chris put in the numbers and I just followed the course. There are so many patches. And who remembers numbers? He scowled but he bought that excuse. After all, I wasn’t an islander and I didn’t know the waters. And I was only some girl. Like...what did I know? Just the vibe I felt you know…

Mom offered an invite to Chris for dinner Wednesday evening. She even said she would make her epic killer seafood chowder. I was terrified. I was afraid he’d say no and afraid he would say yes. I was even terrified to ask him. But mom said it would bring good luck. Hmmm…

After a fitful night of sleep, I woke up to the same anxiety I went to bed with. Even with my new reception at school, I was hesitant to go. This whole ‘Chris for dinner’ thingy was wearing me very thin. So during my second study period…I was far ahead enough that they had trouble finding classes for me to take…I did my nails.

It was mindless work and I enjoyed putting another top coat on the polish. I didn’t intend to do this but the bottle was in my book bag and my work was basically done anyway. I usually read ahead at this time but I chucked it for something far more relaxing. A random girl walked up to where I sat in the courtyard and stared at me.

“Why do you want to be a fisherwoman?” She asked ever so innocently.

Now I must state that my egalitarianism only goes so far. The proper pronouns are enough. Whether I’m called fisherman or fisherwoman is of absolutely no consequence to me. After all, the ultimate goal was to be called ‘Captain’. And I guess she didn’t get the memo about the discussion in the hallway yesterday.

“It runs in the family.” I said softly with a smile.

“But you’re not from here.” She offered.

“Back home…” I couldn’t resist. “…we were fishing before there even was a here.” Very true that…!

“Where are you from?” Again…such innocence…or ignorance…

“Denmark… We do fish there.” A bit of sarcasm…?

“Like the Vikings…?”

Really…? ‘Vikings…’? Seriously…?

“I do have their genes.” I grinned. “Although I must admit I haven’t raped, plundered or looted in some time now.” I had to giggle. “And the blood sacrifices are seriously barfo…”

“My name is Toni.” She held her hand out.

Taking her hand, I told her my name was Jools and we just began to talk. Yet another first in my otherwise dreary life…someone my own age and gender to talk with… As we talked, the topic turned to guys. She had the swampies for Brian. Upon revealing this, I understood what was happening. She was checking me out to see if I had them for that derp as well.

As if…! The swampies…? For Brian…? That would be a derp!

“He’s a nice guy and a good crewman. But he’s not my type.” I smiled softly.

One could see a wave of relief wash over her.

“Kevin…?” She asked arching her brows.

“Nopers… I kind of like Chris?”

I had no idea what caused me to blurt that out.

“Well good luck with that.” Toni snickered. “No wife… No girlfriend… And no boyfriend for that matter… Unless he’s seeing someone on the mainland…?”

Now that was interesting! Maybe he just wasn’t into anybody in that fashion. Though we spoke until the bell signaled the end of the period, I felt…relief…and maybe even a little bold? Perhaps even bold enough to ask Chris over for dinner.

And so I did, telling him my mom said it would bring good luck. After a bit of deliberation, he said yes. My relief was so totally deep that I felt fatigued when I finally returned home with the good news. And of course when the big evening came, Chris loosened up quickly and he sort of fit right in.

When I arrived at the pier on Sunday morning, Chris was in a foul mood. Thursday’s catch was okay. But on Friday and Saturday he came in early and was skunked (that’s fishing talk for not much of a catch…if any). One hundred pounds of cobia and jacks didn’t quite make it. And he still had to pay Brian and Kevin…and all the other expenses!

Chris let me take the boat out again. We were heading to a ground about twelve miles offshore. The water was about three hundred feet deep but the bottom came up to a depth of fifty feet. The ground was locally known as ‘the hump’. It was an ideal place to fish for yellowtail and grouper.

The seas were fair with wave heights between three to five feet. I enjoyed the pitching as we went over the waves; gently up, down, and then back up. The boat handled quite well. When we were about ten miles out, land was gone.

I suddenly saw a flock of sea birds diving and working the surface. They were feeding on something which meant that something bigger was feeding on something smaller. Veering off course, I slowed as we approached. Putting the engines in neutral, I grabbed the glasses (a buzz word for binoculars) and left the helm for a better view.

“What’s wrong?” Chris looked up from his place baiting the hooks.

“Birds working…!” I exclaimed and excitedly pointed. “And a big weed line!”

I held the glasses out toward Chris and pointed. Working birds are a fisherman’s dream…or should I say payday. There were weed patches all around us as we drifted to a dead stop. Chris stood frozen with the glasses glues to his eyes.

“Mahi…!” He suddenly shouted. “Get the lines ready.”

Brian and Kevin finished the baiting and they moved two large stainless drums to the gunnels. Two baited long lines were wrapped around each drum. Chris gave me directions for how he wanted to lay the lines. In short order we laid two one hundred yard lines that were weighted and buoyed to rest about fifteen feet down.

The hooks were large enough to keep the small fish off and the larger ones on. It didn’t take long for the buoys to begin dipping at the ends of both lines. Fish on…! Chris took the helm and with the first line around the power block, Kevin began to haul. I stayed off to the side as the fish began to come up.

“Tuna…!” Kevin shouted excitedly. “Black fin…!”

“Mahi…! Seven to ten pounds pounds…!” Brian added equally as excited.

Taking the bait bin, I began to re-bait the hooks as the fish came off. Brian fed it back out on the other side of the boat so we caught and reset in one pass. The hooks were barbless so the fish practical fell off as they came aboard. After the second line came up and went out, we scrambled to sort the fish into separate tubs.

Chris spoke on the radio to another captain and we were soon joined in the ‘fish fest’. By two in the afternoon we were out of bait! After the last haul we simply stood near the helm and took in the sight. We had taken so many fish that we simply stopped the sorting and Chris ran the salt water pump to keep the fish on deck fresh.

Chris and the other two began to place the lines carefully around their respective drums as I ran us back to the harbor. The tide had turned and the wind picked up making for a sloppy return. But I ran the inlet as if I owned it. Chris was duly impressed.

When we docked and secured the boat, several captains who had taken the day off…(‘too many amateurs out on the weekends’ they’d say)…came to admire the huge catch. One ran off to fetch his own tubs and the other said he’d get his truck. Both had bigger boats so they needed the bigger equipment.

The captain with the bins brought them over using his truck mounted hoist. The other came with his large refrigerated truck. So as Brian, Kevin and I sorted, Chris attached the cable from the hoist to the bins and the other captain placed them in his truck. Both captains actually lend a hand! This is the way it is back home as well.

As it turned out, one’s family name was Larson and the other Henderson. Go and figure! Captain Larson told Chris he’d bring the fish to market and drop the check at his home. The other remarked that Chris had the only female crew member in the harbor.

“She brought us to the fish.” He said whilst catching his breath. “She also took us out and brought us in.”

“I’ll be damned!” He exclaimed and laughed.

“She can navigate and she ran the inlet on her second trip like it was nothing. She baits, sorts, and can clean.” Chris chuckled as the captain looked at me with amazement. “And she spends her summers running on an eighty meter vessel out of Denmark.”

“You have a sister?” He asked me with a grin. Then he turned to Chris. “You want to loan her out?”

“And watch my season disappear?” Chris laughed. “Not a chance…” He put his hand on my shoulder. “This one is with me until she’s out of school.”

“What happens then?” He asked.

“Well…?” I blushed, smiled coyly, and giggled. “I begin on working for my own eighty meter vessel.”

They both got a good laugh out of that. As Chris and the captain spoke, I got back to the matters at hand. The lines needed to be washed in fresh water. The boat was a general mess and needed a good scrub down. And since we were in early, I lent a hand. The men didn’t fail to notice either.

When the work was finally done, I took off my mesh gloves. We’d been so busy that I failed to remove them earlier. At least with all the soap and fresh water they wouldn’t need their own wash down. Nor would my other gear for that matter… We did hold back two fish for each of us.
I cut out our yellowfin but kept the heads and skeletons. They’d make a great base for a fish broth. And the filets would be amazing cut into slices and braised. I did the same for the mahi.

After paying the guys…they seem very happy so there must have been some extra money…Chris insisted upon driving me home. Of course I called and told my folks and they extended another invitation for dinner. Chris smiled and shook his head.

“I’m beat and I’ve got school tomorrow.” He sighed.

He asked me to thank mom and as we drove along the road, he handed me money. It was a lot. Much more money than the crabbing trip…!
“Chris…?” I asked with surprise. “This is a lot of money.”

“Today was all yours.” He said…no grin. “I made enough to cover my bills and to squirrel a nice chunk away. It’s a custom to give the one who spots the fish something extra.” He smiled. “If you want to fish next Saturday and Sunday…?”

“Yes…! Totally…!” I nearly hopped out of my seat. Saturday too…!

“I’ll need to hear that from your folks.” He grinned.

What great luck…! Two days of freedom from the oh so very ordinary…! And doing what I loved no less…! When he dropped me off, I grabbed my bag and hopped out. He got out and came around to me. Putting his hands upon my cheeks, he smiled and gazed deeply into my eyes.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “You may actually have a gift.”

Then he got back into his pickup and waited until I was in the house. I would have watched him drive off but I was afraid of being so tired that I’d stop and sit on the first step. Even as I changed, showered, and changed, I could still feel the touch of his hands. Rough, coarse palms and fingers, but oh so warm…and gentle…

And that is how it was. My folks couldn’t say no. They wouldn’t. They knew where I truly belonged since I was a baby and they couldn’t deny this. And they fully trusted Chris so see to my welfare onboard. So for the next few weeks I went out every Saturday and Sunday. And during the week I used my library period to work out in the gym. I needed more strength and endurance.

Our catches during those two days were becoming nearly epic…almost worthy of a true saga. It didn’t seem to matter how we fished or what we fished for. Grouper, mahi, yellowfin and blackfin tuna, cobia and pompano… They all came aboard in great abundance.

Chris sort of became a fixture; a part of our family. On Wednesday evenings we’d all have dinner with an open invite extended at any time although Chris didn’t take advantage. And my status at school grew with tales of each catch.

My grandfather was apprised of every trip; what we caught and what the weight was (that’s how it is on a fishing vessel…weight). And I wrote him of how Chris worked the boat and treated his sort of dumbass crew well…almost too well. My grandfather rarely smiled and never at sea. He would always scowl. But I could feel him smile at my e-mails; especially this days.

His scowl and a nod meant ‘really good’ and a scowl with a shake from his silver topped and bearded mane was ‘severely not good’. And simply doing your job was expected. He usually smiled when he saw me but that was either on land or in his cabin. He’s a serious man but full of love for his life and that of all others who chose to roam the seas.

Then one evening, two weeks before graduation, I get this e-mail from him. It was weird because I write him and he replies always. But he never writes first. I shook for fear something terrible befalling him. I sighed and opened the e-mail. My heart stopped and I began to tremble. On the screen, in Danish…of course…he wrote one simple sentence.

“Jeg kan bruge nogen i maskinrummet.”

Tears came to my eyes as the implications suddenly hit me. My grandfather had written: ‘I can use someone in the engine room.’ I could almost see that silvery mane nod and the deepest of scowls appear. The invite, and his approval, was tacet. I immediately wrote him back saying I would see how it is with Chris. How weird can life be? Just how weird can it get?

Chris was at his spot the next day; beer in hand as usual. I walked over and planted my butt in the usual fashion. Only this time my arms were wrapped around my knees and my chin rested atop them. I stared out to sea and was silent.

“What’s up with you today?” Chris asked softly.

Having planned this out in my mind...kind of...I simply shook my head. Chris stayed silent for a few moments.

“Look...” Chris turned to face me and put his hand upon my shoulder. “You can tell me anything you know. We’re like...shipmates. And you know I don’t talk to anybody else anyway.”

Turning to face him, I looked into Chris’s eyes.

“There are no secrets aboard a ship you know.” I stated and Chris nodded. “Then let me ask you two questions.” He nodded again. “No wife... No girlfriend... No...” I sighed and paused for a moment. ”No...boyfriend... Just what is your story?”

Chris’s eyes turned cold and his smile rapidly faded. He turned away from me to stare out at the sea and then at the sand. He was silent and I felt a vibe of pain. His pain... We sat for a few minutes with neither of us speaking. Suddenly Chris removed his tee shirt...a first for sure! He turned toward me and got up on his knees.

Stunned didn’t begin to describe what I saw...and felt. This was the first time ever Chris wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was very well developed indeed with bulging muscles. But just below each pectoral muscle was a long curved scar. I looked up into his eyes and saw sadness. Chris said nothing.

“Kraftedeme...!” Okay… Kind of a profanity…Danish style…? “What are those scars from?”

Chris sadly shook his head and I could tell he was holding back tears.

”I’m transgendered Jools.” His voice was almost a whisper. “I was born into a woman’s body. Nobody else here knows and I really don’t want them to know.”

Speech…less...!!! Did I actually hear him correctly?

“Wait... What...!”

“I’m sorry if I shocked you but there’s no other way to say it.”

In spite of his deep sadness and pain, I began to laugh...but with relief! Chris grabbed his tee shirt and quickly stood up. He began to leave when I grabbed his wrist.

“I’ve been laughed at my whole fucking life!” His words spat out like acid. “I don’t need this from you.”

“I’m not laughing at you Chris. Please...” I spoke softly and smiled...between giggles. “Please sit down.” And then more calmly... “Please... Sit down.”

Chris reluctantly sat down. I took his hand in mine as my own tears welled up. Now it would be my turn.

“First of all... I thought it was something...serious? Like maybe life threatening...? Like you were going to die or something...? So when you told me, I had laughed with relief. Secondly… It doesn’t bother me. Not…at…all…” Not one bit…!

“Then why the tears?” He asked calmly. “And clearly you’re not running to your car.”

“I have something to show you.”

My words quavered as did my hands as I stood up. I slowly pulled down my shorts and stood in just my bathing suit with my arms outstretched. Chris just stared at me.

“What...?” He shrugged. “I just see your body.”

As I glanced down I realized that...that weird thing interloping between my legs was truly asleep. I turned away and quickly adjusted myself and then turned back. There could be no mistaking what was outlined now. Chris stared for the longest moment.

”You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

Chris nearly bellowed his words. He fell back onto the sand with his arms splayed out and stared at the sky. After several long moments he sat back up and looked at me. I was kneeling on my towel with my hands between my legs hiding Mister Sleepy. I looked at Chris anxiously.

“What would have happened if I wasn’t the right one to come out to? You could have gotten beaten up...or worse.” He really looked concerned and then he snickered. “You have what I want and I have what you want. That...is fucking cruel.” He laughed.

This time Chris took my hand in his.

“I use to bind my tits…”

Hating that word, I scrunched up my face.

“Okay… Boobs…?” He queried.

“Anyway… When I started growing boobs…” Chris paused for a moment and looked at me. “I was afraid I would grow them like my mother. Huge…! So I would bind up what little I had with elastic bandages. In the keys…? The only thing that’s illegal is legality. So I took what money I earned and bought testosterone pills.”

This was very tough for Chris. I don’t think he ever told anyone about any of this. As he glanced out at the sea for a moment or two, I could see the pain that I felt. It was already etched upon his face. Then he gazed at me again and smiled.

“School was an impending nightmare of course. So I’d show up for assignments and exams.” He paused. “My aunt and uncle weren’t thrilled with what I was doing but I was useful and helpful and brought it more money. So they kind of looked the other way and let me go with my program.”

Chris’s pain was enormous. I could feel it in massive waves and I truly felt for him.

“And it’s not like I haven’t been with anyone. Men and women…sometimes both… And even though it was pleasurable for me, I could not achieve that ultimate rush. You know? So I just stopped trying. People are annoying anyway.”

I am not getting into my own personal relaxation exercises! So forget about that right now! But I will say that I knew exactly what Chris meant by ‘that ultimate rush’. I didn’t need to say anything. He knew what I felt and I could see it in his face. I nodded anyway.

“So I figured that maybe it’s not me. Maybe…just maybe…it was them. I just wasn’t into them as people.” He gazed down at our interlocked hands. “The very moment I saw you I felt this…this tingling.” Chris looked up into my eyes and they locked. “But when we began to speak…? It was all over. And from that moment on I couldn’t think of anything but fishing and you.”

Tears were now running freely down my cheeks. I had to blot them with my tee shirt. I didn’t want to let go of Chris’s hand. I badly wanted to say something but I couldn’t compose myself. Almost as one, we both leaned in toward one another and we hugged until I could finally sit up again.

“I finish school in two weeks and then I leave for home.” I sniffled. “And every year I’m tempted not to come back here. This is not where I belong. I want to be with my people...the ones who fish the sea. This is who I am.”

Chris noticably understood. I could see it in his eyes...and on his face. It was the sadness. I had to ask him now...or never.

“The F/V (that’s official talk for fishing vessel) I’ll sail on has a place in the engineering section. Would you like to come fishing with me…for a change?” Hope was written across my face.

It took a few moments for the offer to sink in. When it did, Chris’s eyes brightened and I could see him thinking. He was silent but I knew.

“Hell yeah…! I can do it.” Chris said as he grabbed my other hand. “I’ll just give the boat to the dockmaster and pay him for two months of storage. And if I don’t come back, I’ll tell him to sell it and give me what he thinks is fair.” Chris snickered. “I finish school next week and I’ll have my certificate...for what it’s worth.”

Chris smiled and then I smiled. The warm fuzzies overcame me even though there was one more question to be asked.

“And being back home...I’ll be perfectly legal.” I reminded him...for better or worse. I can take rejection as poorly as anybody! “So...my only other question is...do you want to share a cabin?”

Arching one brow and grinning wickedly...or as wickedly as I could...I remained silent. But in my heart I was saying a prayer to Njǫror. Chris slowly and deliberately got to his knees. His eyes never left mine. He put his arms around me and hugged me firmly and gently. Then he whispered in my ear.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And then he kissed my ear and forehead. I leaned back and stared deeply into his eyes. Then I kissed him on his lips with all the energy that was in me. The kiss didn’t last all that long. But it was one of those kisses where you try to suck up some of the other’s soul and replace it with a piece of your own.

When our lips did part, we stared at one another with amazement. What I said next just tumbled out without any thought at all.

“And if you need to ask what that was…you’ll need to find a different cabin.”

And my biggest task was telling my folks what was going to happen. Chris felt he needed to be there for our disclosure. I didn’t expect anything less from my Chris. They weren’t totally pleased. But they weren’t totally displeased either.

Going home with Chris was not without concerns for mom and dad. Their biggest one being whether I’d return to finish my schooling and they knew better than to ask. Their second main concern was how Chris would take to my…extra parts? I told them take Chris knew and it didn’t matter. After all, I was an adult and they knew that finishing my last year of upper school just wasn’t one of my priorities. But fishing and being with Chris was.

After one final mani-ped…who knew when the next one would be…and one more excellent home cooked meal, my folks saw us off at Jacksonville airport and our trek…our adventure…began.

First we flew to New York. From there we flew SAS Airlines to Copenhagen. I spoke to the stewardess in Svenska (that’s Swedish) and told her where we were going. She smiled and nodded knowingly. She said that Chris looked like a fisherman. We got free drinks and two excellent meals…each. Speaking the language does have its advantages.

We spent our first night together…and in the same bed…in Copenhagen. The hotel was next to the airport so we could make the first flight out the next day to Aalborg. I was totally exhausted and had to fight my weariness to even shower. Glancing at his hormones resting next to mine caused me to smile.

Chris had already showered and was resting on the huge bed in clean boxer shorts. When I came out of the bathroom and I saw him resting as he was, arms outstretched, eyes closed, and a silly grin on his face, I shed my sleeping tee and wore just a clean panty. Getting onto the bed, I nestled up to his side and Chris wrapped his arms around me.

“Why are you grinning?” I asked softly.

He just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Not a word was uttered. But a moan of pleasure slipped out of him. So I slowly and gently ran my figure tips over his muscular tummy and chest. It felt so amazing…so wonderful…so very normal and natural. I could feel his head turn. Chris gazed into my eyes as I looked up at him.

“Maybe I’m just really tired and being on my back feels so good. Or…maybe being on my back with you feels so good.” He paused for a moment. “I’ve never shared a bed with anyone I really cared for before.” He kissed my forehead. “Or…maybe I’m truly happy doing what I’m doing with you. It’s like…” Chris paused and sighed. “It’s like the perfect life after so many years of stacked up shit.”

His words brought tears to my eyes and I hugged him even closer. Chris reached over and took a tissue from a travel packet. He turned me onto my back and blotted my tears. In that moment I felt us sharing one another’s energy…fully…as he blotted my tears.

To be sharing this adventure…and it truly would be an adventure…was amazing. This was my wildest dream! I felt so unbelievably grateful to the gods that brought us together. We fell asleep with our arms around each other. We were in no rush. It would happen when we were ready.

In the morning we caught the first flight to Aalborg. Then from Aalborg we rode the train to Skagen. As you might have guessed, Skagen was at the northern most tip of the Danish peninsula and aside from being the largest fishing seaport, it was a favored summer resort.

The very moment we stepped off the train in Skagen, the scent of the sea hit us. And as we walked through the town, I was so tempted to take the day and show Chris where I truly called home. The town is beautiful with museums and parks and the aire of a place where our people went to sea.

My grandfather’s home was just past the northern most part of the port. It was a just off the beach with an unobstructed view of the havn (harbor) and the North Sea. The house was quite grand and filled with his life at sea. And pictures of my grandmother and six generations of fisherman filled the walls. A picture of the both of us rested near his favorite chair.

But we would be putting out to sea in less than three days and there was much to do. The very first marine chandlery we passed by saw Chris getting a full set of Grundéns. The wear in Florida was way different from that we used; much lighter and more subject to wear and tear. So now Chris at least could appear to be one who fished the North Sea. He allowed me to pay for it only after a very animated discussion; our first!

Unaccustomed to seventy degree temperatures in the summer, Chris wore his new jacket. As we turned a corner onto Fiskehuskajen, the main road that linked the entire havn, the port spread out before us. Chris stopped, dropped his bags, and simply stared.

“Fuck…” He said softly.

The smallest craft was way larger than anything that sailed out from the island. My grandfather wrote me to look for the largest vessel in the port. He would be on the bridge…as usual. When I spied his ship, I pointed it out to Chris. I knew from just gazing at it exactly what it was.

“Fuck…” He said not so softly.

“That’s a long lining factory ship. I guess I’m going to be spending a lot of time below deck.” I giggled.

“That’s a fucking ocean liner!” Chris exclaimed. “The mechanical spaces must be amazing!”

“Come on…” I snickered. “Let’s get onboard and see!”

Walking toward the pier, we passed several of the processing houses. Though one could smell the waste from canning or pickling or whatever the catch needed to be marketed, nothing went to waste. What wasn’t directly used was sold as silage or fertilizer to farmers. Being wasteful was not in our genome.

As we reached the main gate to the wharf his ship was docked at, I texted my grandfather. In a few minutes an electric cart arrived to take us to the ship. As we passed other vessels either off loading or on loading, the scale of my grandfather’s ship only grew larger.

“Oh my…!” I turned to Chris. “It’s got to be a hundred meters! It’s huge!”

But all poor Chris could do was stare open mouthed at the ship. And I felt for him. At least I had a good idea of what we were getting into.
The entire way to the ship, Chris’s word of the day was ‘Fuck’. And when we came to the gangway, he simply gazed up at the main deck, number three deck above the water line. A huge smile crossed my face as I recognized Viggo Gunderssen, the first officer. I waved as I hurried up the gangway. He met me with a broad smile and a huge bear hug. After all, he was a bear of a man.

“Our Rán has arrived and we shall all feast on this trip.” He said as he hugged me. “And this is your Njǫror?” He grinned.

Making the formal introductions, I explained to Chris that Rán is the sea Goddess and Njǫror the sea God. They weren’t married to each other but they may have fooled around? The Gods were kind of like that. But then again, so were their subjects!

“We have several other couples aboard.” He turned to Chris. “Some of our women still take to the sea.” He chuckled. “Your berthing is forward on the main deck. I have put the ship’s layout on the desk as well as your working schedules.” Patting my shoulder, he continued. “I hope that your knife is sharp.” He chuckled. “And our Captain waits for you on the bridge.”

On board any good working vessel, we always addressed the officers as ‘Mister’. And the only name the captain has is…‘Captain’. That changes once we’re on land…except for the Captain. We do have our traditions. But I can call him Farfar in his cabin…if we’re alone…or on land.

We were aboard a new factory line hauler which meant we would long line and our catch would be semi-processed…or fully cut out depending on the orders. And the waste would be processed into ‘fish chips’; a fertilizer. This was one of only three vessels in its class…so far. Only the Russians and Chinese had anything larger.

“Your friend will work under Mister Knudsen, our engineering officer. Now go and make your place and then see the Captain.” He grinned. “And both your names are on the cabin door.”

Grabbing Chris’s arm, he was already drifting toward the stern towers on either side of the ship. I pulled him along to the main super structure. Status onboard is dictated by berthing levels. Being on the main deck gave us status as crew. Mates and section heads were on the second level and the third up, or five decks above the water line, housed the officers. Directly above that was the bridge.

Our ‘berthing’ was a cabin with its very own head, basin, and shower! The bed was queen sized. We even had a desk and small refrigerator. This was truly luxury aboard a fishing vessel! We stowed our gear and what clothing we brought and made for the bridge.

Six decks above the water line is the ‘throne room’. We call it the bridge and sometimes the ‘wheel house’ or ‘pilot house’. The second officer was on deck checking the electronics. He smiled and nodded. My grandfather was in his day cabin as usual so I knocked on the closed door.

“Kom…” He growled in his deep voice and I opened the door. “Ah... Min søndatter…!”

“Farfar…!”

I rushed into his outstretched arms with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face. I spoke to him in Danish.

“I am so happy to be here with you again Famor. I missed you so much. And I missed this so much.” True that…!

“You have my blood.” He chuckled. “And your friend…?”

“I left him on the bridge. First I wanted to see my Farfar. Only then he may see our Captain.” I giggled.

We had this connection between us that I didn’t quite have with my parents. But they were good parents and never interfered with that connection even though they weren’t thrilled with what I was planning. But this is how it is for me and they realized it.

“Kom mit barn af havet…” Famor growled. “Let us meet this man of yours.” He said in English.

‘…child of the sea…’ I liked that. He led me out onto the bridge where Chris was busy gawking at all the instrumentation and speaking with the second officer.

“Why does this man stand on my bridge doing nothing?” Grandfather growled quite loudly and scowled quite deeply.

Chris nearly jumped out of his skin. He stood frozen with the most amazing startled look ever!

“He belongs below in the engineering station with Mister Knudsen.” Grandfather growled at me.

“Yes Captain…” I tried to contain myself. “I’ll show him to his station.”

“And you must be prepared to take us out.” He snarled at me. “It’s about time you earn your keep. You will see Mister Gunderssen for your duties until we leave the havn.”

I couldn’t keep my composure once my grandfather returned to his cabin. My excitement and joy simply burst free with a yelp. This would be the first time I took any ship of size out of port; especially one this big and this new!

“I don’t think he likes me.” Chris announced sadly as we descended down to the main deck and then below to the machinery spaces.
Knowing my grandfather well, I had to giggle.

“Trust me. If he didn’t like you we wouldn’t be making this walk.”

After introducing Chris to Ivar Knudsen, grandfather’s engineering officer, I set off looking for Mister Gunderssen. On my way to the after deck, I picked up the deck plans not knowing where he would assign me.

For the next two days we set about our duties. Chris received a tour of all the machinery spaces. He was then weighed down with two arm fills of protocols and manuals to study. He would be lighting up the two massive diesels that powered the electric propeller systems. We were still on shore power so the four auxiliary diesels would also need starting.

Mister Gunderssen had me check the supply inventory. All the baits, hooks, lines, and buoys had to be accounted for. Then there were the food supplies. The blue, grey, and black water tanks needed to be topped off. The crewmembers did the counting and set up whilst I watched checked each task off the list given me.

So for two days we were busier than we’d ever been. We would meet in the mess for our meals and once again in our cabin in the evening. We’d yet to be physically intimate but I appreciated Chris not pushing. We were too tired at the day’s end anyway. Thankfully we had a few hours ashore to get toiletries and a major supply of lip balm.

I’d watched and listened carefully when my grandfather supervised Mister Gunderssen taking us out over the years. Famor did the same with me. I wore the headset and stood out on the bridge wing as I spoke the commands. It was an almost automatic action on my part.

Beginning with ‘single up lines’, to powering up the starboard bow thruster, I followed the order from memory. With each new command I gazed quickly at my grandfather who simply nodded and scowled. Whenever I looked down over the sides he did the same. When we were a respectable distance from the wharf and in the channel, I gave the ‘ahead slow’ order to our pilot and we cleared the harbor.

Returning to the ‘wheel’, I relieved Mister Gunderssen and I took us out. He grinned broadly and nodded his approval as I approached his station. With my grandfather in the port chair and Mister Gunderssen in the starboard chair, they watched carefully as I ported around the shoals and took us out into the North Sea.

Being relieved after two hours, my grandfather invited Chris and me to his cabin for dinner. I was accustomed to this from prior sailings. Usually either Mister Gunderssen or Mister Knudsen would join us. Inviting Chris was a special honor indeed.

The Captain’s cabin was the largest onboard. He had a long table for the executive officers’ and section heads’ meetings as well as a large desk, bed, and a head, a large basin and mirror, and a roomy shower…for a commercial vessel that is. After showering and putting on fresh clothing, Chris and I went to my Famor’s cabin.

The long table was finely set and the master chef brought up an amazing meal. It was just for the three of us and even included beer. There were only three places set with my Famor sitting at the head; Chris and I sat on either side of him. It is the custom to wait for the Captain to begin the meal…unless he says otherwise.

“I am told it is the custom for Chris, you, your mother and your father to break bread and have drink before going to fish.” He said.

We both were a bit confused until I remembered it was Wednesday evening; when Chris ate with us!

“In the old days…whole families took to the seas in search of wealth and new lands.” Famor paused and folded his hands as if in prayer. “The children, if they were sturdy enough, went as well. Our wives with babes in arms would come along. This was how it was.” He paused in thought…but only for a moment. “And to think I bring my family to sea in these days…?” Famor took Chris’s hand and mine. “It is truly a blessing.”