Page 82 of Tide Over

“Ever been lobster fishing before?” Mitch asks, raising his voice over the hum of the engine.

I shake my head. “Nope. First time on a lobster boat too.”

“Really?” Glen asks with a smirk. “Aren’t you a Caper?”

I chuckle with a shrug. “Yeah, but I never really knew anyone in the business.”

Sarah snorts, sipping her coffee. “Well, you certainly do now.”

Theo glances back at me through the window, and motions for me to join him in the wheelhouse.

I step inside, taking in the screens and controls surrounding him. The soft glow of the equipment bathes his face in dim light, and his expression softens as his eyes meet mine. He holds my gaze for a moment, and I want nothing more than to reach out and touch him and press my lips to his. His eyes momentarily drop to my lips, confirming he has the same thought, before he turns his attention to a screen before him and points to it. “This is where we’re going.”

I lean closer, taking in the various markers scattered across one section of the screen. “Those are your trap locations?” Then my eye catches the distance. “Wow, they’re pretty far out.”

He nods. “Yeah. About forty minutes out.”

I glance out the front window at the dark, endless water ahead. There’s something unsettling about heading this far outinto the ocean in the darkness, but seeing Theo so calm and at ease settles me. I lean against the wheelhouse wall and sip my coffee, watching Theo drive the boat as the first hints of dawn start to break.

By the time we reach the first trap location, the sky has softened to shades of yellow and blue, casting a gentle light over the water. It’s quiet and serene, and for the first time in a while, my mind is completely quiet.

Theo slows the boat and turns to me, pointing towards a buoy bobbing in the water as the crew jumps into action behind us, getting things set up on the deck.

“These are our trawl lines,” Theo says. “Everyone in our fishing area paints their buoys, so we know whose is whose. Each licence has an area where we can set traps, which is determined on trap setting day at the beginning of the season.” He flips a switch, and the boat shifts into neutral, rumbling softly as we drift towards the buoy. He grabs a long hook from behind him, smiling as he looks back at me. “And we always get the best spot.”

“Damn right we do,” Mitch says, stepping up beside me with a grin.

I watch Theo as he hooks the buoy and pulls it up onto the deck. There’s a quiet confidence in the way he moves, and I can see why he’s torn about this life. It might have been chosen for him, but it’s obvious he loves it too.

He lifts the buoy, showing it to me. “Ours are blue and red. Sarah paints them every year.” He gestures to the faded paint, revealing an octopus with big eyes and a smile. “And she tends to put adorable little sea creatures on them as well,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

Sarah beams as she opens the hatch to the holding tank. “Each year they get even better.”

Mitch groans. “They’re going to have like… glitter or something next year, aren’t they.”

“Who knows.” Sarah shrugs. “Maybe googly eyes.”

Theo shakes his head as he secures the line to a hydraulic winch. He flips a switch, and the system starts reeling in the trap line.

He leans in closer to me as he points at it. “This brings the line in, so we can pull the traps up to the side of the boat where we unload, re-bait, and set them again.” He then turns to face me, and his expression turns serious. “Feet flat on the floor at all times, and keep your eyes down. If rope is moving on the floor, always step up to the wheelhouse. If you feel a tug on your foot, drop to the ground immediately and point your feet to the stern.”

I nod, taking in the intensity in his eyes. “Got it.”

He holds my gaze for a moment longer before nodding back. “Ok.”

Mitch leans over the side of the boat as the first trap surfaces, and pulls it onto the ledge. Theo flips a switch to stop the hauler while Mitch opens the top, and him and Theo reach in.

Mitch holds up a large crab. “These fellas like to sneak in and eat all the bait. At least we’re feeding the ocean floor.” He chuckles, tossing the crab back into the water.

Theo pulls out a lobster, giving it a quick once-over before tossing it into the holding tank. “That’s our job, really,” he says, looking at me over his shoulder. “Feeding the ecosystem and keeping the fishery sustainable.” He pulls another lobster from the trap and holds it up, then tosses it back into the ocean, glancing at me with a shake of his head. “Too small.”

I nod, stepping forward, hanging on to every word he says. Seeing and hearing the confidence in him while he works has me completely hooked, and I’m fascinated by this process.

And him.

“Our job is to keep our traps full of bait to feed the young and breeders,” he continues. “We only keep a small amount of what we catch. In our waters here in the South Shore, it can take a lobster seven to nine years to reach the minimum legal size, which is a carapace length of 82.5 millimetres.” He holds up another lobster and runs his finger along the shell from the tail to the eyes to show me where he measures. “We can eyeball most, but if I think I need to measure it, then it’s probably too small.” He shrugs and tosses it back into the water. “So back in they go to keep eating and growing.”

Once the trap is empty, Theo switches the hauler back on, sliding the empty trap down to Sarah as Mitch hauls up the next one on the line. Sarah loads the empty trap with bait, and Glen starts banding the lobsters in the holding tank. Everyone moves efficiently with a practised ease, like a well-oiled machine. This crew clearly works well together.

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