The Fishing Trip ..Part 1

Calisto absentmindedly fingered his frayed “lucky” fuse as his keen eyes cast their final look over the fishing bombs he’d been busy constructing all night. The squat pottery bottles stopped with bees wax sat forlornly awaiting their watery fate.

Nodding again with satisfaction, he closed the lid to his supply of Salt of Petra – a secret mixture which included naturally occurring potassium nitrate and the refined finishing from niter-beds. He double checked the secure fastenings of each box before closing the cupboard door and latching it against the rhythmic roll of the sea.

Bruno had granted him a small corner cupboard and constructed bench space away from where the rest of the men slept in their hammocks; mainly due to their nervousness toward the myriad of foul smelling ingredients he kept to produce the various explosives he created.

Pressing his upper lip onto his gaped yellowing teeth, he gave a sharp whistle. “Eh Boy. I’ m ready.”

Calvins eager face appeared moments afterward. The lad held his arms out to assist carrying the pottery jars onto deck and chattered incessantly about how careful he would be holding them.

The crew leant against balistrad and masts, picking either their teeth or fingernails with daggers. The heavy hot air was stifling and difficult to breathe after even the most minor physical exertion. Many of the crew had striped away their shirts and signs of sunburn were beginning to show on the whitened chests. Jagged scar wounds, puckered and fierce, marked each man as seasoned participants in the many scuffles the crew from La Gongozzler had experienced.

Juan stood squinting into the flat horizon, his arms behind him and hands tapping together agitatedly. His pure white linen shirt, loosely threaded to the throat, hung in dampened, but not dirty, folds around his muscled torso. His dark thick hair lay in its natural waves, if not shorter than currently popular; dampened too by the heat wave which becalmed the ship. His brow wrinkled slightly as he strained to see.

Pete handed him a spyglass. “I saw it too. But, wasn’t sure.”

Juan scanned the horizon again to where he had seen a shape or a shadow and shook his head. “Nothing. I think the heat and all this waiting around has driven us all mad.”

Bare feet shuffling uncomfortably behind him, caused Juan to reluctantly put the spy glass down.

“Beggin’ your pardon Captain. I’m ready”

Juan gracefully turned about slowly; as if in a dance and allowed the first smile he’d born for days to spread across his face.

“Thank you Calisto. We all look forward to the diversion.” He nodded at Pete who scrambled waving his arms about as he shouted orders.

“Look lively, you men with the hooks. We’ll need some nets over here as well. Garcia, get more pots from Pablo. Fielden is your group ready with those gutting knives?”

“Ey Pete.” Fielden flicked his knife into the air and caught it deftly, spinning it about his hands seemingly absentmindedly, but grinning at the jealous looks he received.

Ruby fluttered an ancient fan and frowned at Matthews questioning look.

“I’m trying to do as the Captain has asked and take on a more feminine role.”

She leant over the railings on the quaterdeck and peered down at the rest of the crew.

“What exactly are they planning to do? I’ve never seen fishing with pots before.”
His elbow touched hers as bent closer to her. “Its pretty crude, extremely noisy and involves no fishing tackle. Petes had the men throw burly around the ship now for hours to lure fish in. They’ll just throw in the explosives and up float the fish; half dead, stunned or partially cooked. Pete has teams ready to scoop up the fish and those who will gut and clean them ready to preserve and cook them.”

Matthew misunderstood Rubys shocked face as an unspoken further question. “The blast causes shockwaves underwater. Any fish nearby will have its innards explode or stun them. Some of them float , but most of them sink to the sea floor. We’ve used this in the past to clear coral reefs we have had near run ins both on the Mediterranean ………and when we sailed in another places.”

“Coral?”

“Sea gardens – under the water – truly a beautiful spectre to behold. Colours and shapes like you’ve never seen, fish darting about, all curious about you being in their space.”

I’ve never heard of coral before.

“As hard as stone and if you get cut with it as dangerous as a kiss from death. It’ll cut a ships keel like knives and sink you quicker than being in he grips of a sea monster. The Mediterranean is not a particularly deep sea. There are outcrops where islands used to be or simply put there by the god of the sea to wreck ships. See that splashing out beyond?”

She nodded

“That would be a reef for certain.”

“I’d love to see it. You’ve seen it.”

Matthews face wrinkled as he smiled and nodded..

She stopped fluttering her ineffectual fan and turned to him. “Take me out to the reef. I want to see it.”

Matthew watched the teams of men preparing for the fishing haul. “Well – the ships not going anywhere soon, we’ve laid a sea anchor. We’d have ask the Captain. It may not seem any distance, but once away from the ship there’s the danger of drifting, of being lost.”

Her eyes sparkled with an intensity he’d not seen for weeks. “What could possibly go wrong Matthew? Let go , now. Before they start I don’t think I could bear to see those poor fish flopping about helplessly.”