Chapter 13: Little Green

On the crab boat, no one called Henry by his name; everyone followed Old George and called him "Little Green."

The original intent was "Green_Crew," a rookie crewmember; in Chinese, using Henry's memory of the term, it was called "Cai Niao."

How goes the military saying: old birds give orders, middle birds wait, and new birds endure. Wherever you are, being a new bird means no rights—it's an unspoken rule.

On the Anne 21, Henry was indeed the only one with zero experience at sea crabbing; everyone else, even the least experienced, had sailed with Old George several times and were on their second year.

New birds must know their place—Henry had that awareness; besides, he truly had zero foundation and understood nothing. He certainly couldn't rely on his super strength to beat everyone into submission.

If you want comfort, go home!

But under Old George's leadership, there was no deliberate bullying of newcomers; because the only calm days were from the first day at sea until reaching the crabbing grounds in Bai Linghai.

What followed was a terrifying nonstop grind!

The crab boat worked nearly twenty-one hours a day—not meaning three full hours of sleep, but that those three hours were scattered throughout the day, leaving perhaps only an hour or more of uninterrupted sleep.

Work was divided into shifts of two to three hours, with five to ten minutes of rest between each shift—time used solely for eating, drinking, and relieving oneself. Thus, crabbers ate five to six meals a day.

The midday and evening breaks were longer, twenty to thirty minutes—these were the only two times in the day to eat hot food; all other meals were simple dry rations.

The work was complex and dangerous: crewmen had to hang meat-bait bags in the center of iron crab traps weighing three hundred and fifty kilograms, then lower the traps into the sea about one hundred and fifty meters deep to attract crab swarms.

But dropping the traps didn't mean everyone could rest—how could a single boat have only one trap?

Operations were continuous: as soon as one trap was lowered, the earliest one dropped had to be hauled up. Whether or not it caught king crabs, it had to be reorganized and re-baited.

A major concern during reorganization was ice buildup. Ice chunks weren't like seawater splashed on deck—they didn't automatically drain back into the sea through the rail gaps; some even froze onto the traps themselves.

If too much ice accumulated and wasn't promptly broken with a heavy mallet and thrown back into the sea, it could shift the boat's center of gravity and cause capsizing.

So even when all traps were still in the water and none were being hauled up, everyone still had to break ice—no one could sneak a rest.

Lowering and hauling traps, of course, relied on the ship's crane. Little Green Henry couldn't operate the crane; he mostly worked beside the old birds near the traps.

And don't imagine king crabs are docile seafood—even when pulled to the surface, their mobility is less than underwater.

But their hard shells, sharp spines, and claws are still real—just lifting one could injure your hands, even without being stabbed or pinched; gloves were mandatory.

Of course, Henry wouldn't get his hands hurt by mere king crabs—but he didn't make exceptions or insist on bare-handed work to prove he was invincible.

Besides the nonstop work hours and unfriendly king crabs, the greatest challenge on the crab boat was still the sea conditions.

October and November in Bai Linghai were unmistakably winter: polar storms from the Arctic, laced with seawater, forced crewmen to work in temperatures near freezing, sometimes with fine snow falling.

And there were often winds exceeding twenty-six kilometers per hour, raising waves ten meters high. As a small vessel, the crab boat was never stable—just standing firm was a challenge.

Worse still, massive waves crashing onto the deck could sweep careless crewmen into the sea. Fortunately, crab boats weren't warships—if someone fell overboard, rescue attempts were made. But under such brutal sea conditions, rescue difficulty was unimaginable.

In short, the first and greatest hurdle to joining a crab boat was not getting seasick—or at least, trying not to.

If you were seasick, just vomit and don't do any work.

Thus, the brutal sea conditions, terrifying work hours, and hostile king crabs were why Alaska's crab boats always suffered from labor shortages every year.

Henry had originally wondered: wouldn't it be better to not push so hard every day, to get more rest?

But after experiencing the work environment firsthand, he didn't need to ask anyone—he could answer himself.

Ice-breaking work had to be done constantly, and the sea conditions were so terrible. To sleep soundly on such a boat, you'd need enough skill to nap on a roller coaster.

So everyone on the crab boat would agree: fill the hold as fast as possible, then return to Huigang as soon as you can.

Only someone full from overeating would complain about too little sleep time—get it done early, go home early!

At such times, an experienced captain was vital—not only to steer the boat through wind and waves without capsizing, but also to accurately judge where king crabs could be caught.

Because king crab migration patterns were unpredictable and didn't appear on fishing radar or sonar, harvest success depended entirely on the captain's experience, instinct, and luck.

If luck ran bad, time at sea extended, and risks multiplied. But if the captain was sharp enough, they could fill the hold and return in about five days.

What the Pole had told Henry—that a trip took about two weeks—was the result of a lousy captain.

Most couldn't last two weeks; after barely a week, even if the hold wasn't full, they'd choose to return to Huigang for rest.

After all, this high-intensity labor was fought with one's life, sustained only by adrenaline. If pushed too far and someone dropped dead on board, the whole ship would be lost—and that would be disastrous.

In these few short days, Henry's performance pleased all the old birds beyond measure.

In such a high-intensity environment, the worst fear was a useless teammate—there was no time for workplace bullying.

Henry's "new bird" identity couldn't be erased—he didn't know too many things and asked too many questions. But once he'd been shown something once and tried it once, he rarely made the same mistake again.

The reason for "rarely" was that coordination with others sometimes suffered from poor chemistry. But no one complained—because if someone shouted, Henry corrected himself instantly.

Who wouldn't be satisfied with such a hassle-free crewmember? He was "Little Green," earning the least pay of anyone—yet no one could even envy him.

This learning speed and efficiency gave him opportunities to do tasks beyond basic duties.

You could say that, except for the helm, Henry had handled every tool on the crab boat—inside and out—and no one had objected. And this had taken less than five days.

New book request: follow, collect, recommend—thank you~~

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(End of Chapter)