Fish Overboard

By Philip Lear

The Norte was an eighty-foot trawler sailing out of Halifax heading towards the Grand Banks in choppy seas. The crew consisted of Jack, Captain Marsh and Big Ed. They were headed out to catch mackerel and haddock.

The ship was broad and sturdy as it rode through the high seas of the North Atlantic. Its bow would plunge beneath the surface for an instant and then reappear. For Jack, who had sailed small cabin cruisers on the Intercoastal Waterway this was exciting. And when the waves got big it was truly breathtaking.

It was seven in the morning and he was in charge in the wheelhouse when he saw the large vertical wall of water rising sixty feet above the deck. This is it, he thought. They say that when you are about to die, your life flashes before you. And thoughts were now racing through his mind about Anna, his wife and his two sons, Jeff and Roy. He knew he’d never see them again

But there was no time to think. He was at the wheel and all he could do was react. Jack took a deep breath and steadied himself as he pointed the Norte directly into the wave. The ship bravely climbed the wave and then shuddered and creaked as its screws rode up out of the water. When it plunged down the backside of the wave Jack breathed a sigh. He was safe.

The first thing he noticed was that all the windows were gone from the wheelhouse and he was soaked. On the deck in front of him was a large fish that had been deposited there by the wave. It was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. The fish was at least six feet long and must have weighed more than one hundred fifty pounds. It was blue and turquoise with large fins and deep black lines running the length of its body. Its head was square and its jaw slightly undercut.

‘What’s that?’ He asked himself. ‘What am I going to do with this thing?’

He didn’t know what kind of fish it was. It certainly didn’t look edible. Nothing that unsightly could be edible. He knew that it wasn’t a tuna, haddock or cod. Not even close.

Maybe it was a mutt. There are dogs that are mutts. When he was a kid he had a mutt named Hannibal. Why not a fish?

As Jack looked at it, he thought he saw the fish looking back at him. And it wasn’t a dumb look either. He blinked his eyes.

‘Jack, Jack, Jack,’ he said scolding himself. ‘You’ve been out here too long. Your brain is waterlogged.’ He took out his flask and took a good belt.

Then he looked again. There was no doubt about it; the fish was definitely looking at him. It was straining off of the deck in Jack’s direction.

He was trying to decide what to do with the thing. It was big, maybe too big for him to handle. And yet he didn’t want to call the others. Big Eddie and Marsh would chain saw it and throw the pieces overboard.

The fish must have sensed Jack’s approach and started to flap desperately. Maybe it thought that Jack was going to kill it.

I’ll toss it, he thought. At least I’ll try. But the thing is moving too much for me to get a good grip.

‘Now calm down,’ he said talking to the fish in his deepest reassuring voice. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

But that didn’t help. When he reached down to lift the fish, it started moving and opened its mouth showing its three rows of pointy teeth. Jack jumped back.

’Whew! Those things are sharp. They could take a chunk out of me,’ he said as he jumped back. ‘Maybe, I should leave the thing alone. If I had a brain in my head I probably would.’

‘Calm down. Take it easy,’ he said to the fish in a deep whisper. But the fish wasn’t buying any of it and continued to flap on the deck.

This was too much for Jack. First it was the killer wave and now the fish. Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his flask and took another nip. Too much indeed. Then a light flashed in his head. That poor excuse for a fish has been through it too. He deserves a good stiff belt.

“Here’s to our future safety,” he said as he carefully poured a little of the whisky into the side of the fish’s mouth. The fish gulped it down and shook its head violently. Jack took another swig and shook his head too.

‘That was a good stiff belt, buddy.’

The fish looked up at him and nodded agreement. Jack thought for a second he detected a slight smile.

’Well, let’s give it another try.’ Jack said as he slid the fish to the edge of the deck.

This time the fish didn’t resist. With great effort he lifted him and tossed him overboard.

’Happy swimming,’ Jack said.

The fish gave him one last wink and then was gone.