A Sailor-recalling the Gulf Coast Shrimpers

in progress

A Sailor

He…..was truly of the sea and its seaweed and crustaceans. Part and parcel of the ‘make a living’ selling fish and shrimp, and squid .Everything about the way of life, coffee in the morning smelling of chicory and sea salt. Hardboiled egg and a hardtack biscuit. Heavy on the black pepper and a little garlic if on hand. Mending nets as the schooner set out to the reefs...shuttle  in- hand and weaving back the holes the ocean took from the last runs. The gulls and pelicans were the ever present pilferers and begger vagabonds. Just a bit of fish Sir, one needs a small bit if ones to survive. And galumph hard swallow when it’s tossed skyward, acrobatics for the prize and then formation once again.

Picturesque in the morning pre-dawn light, Red in the Morning, sailor...what was it...oh sailor take warning, Painted like the watercolors of a true beach comber. Visual images of the Still Lives of the proud few who still plied this trade and hoped beyond hope a son would carry the sea water in his blood, one more, yes one more generation to the likes of Captain, nay lubber and the hard way of the sailors and hands of the sloops and diesel engine shrimpers of the Gulf Coast.

Gone is the time of masted ships and rigging to spin about the main sails and capture the sea breezes and not becalmed of a turn; a tack into the gentle breeze to speed the laying of the nets ...the cry shrimp on and the sails taut to the pull, lines dropped with skills that the fathers taught the sons, the grandfathers taught them.Buoy away and net in the schools and runs, times a wastin' son ..the first to lay the nets gets the run and the others a lookin for the tells. Woe be he who cuts the excluders , required now to test the patience and skill of even the best of the old salts. Shark meat was the fin cuts now used in the kitchens as clams or scallops or other sort of shell fish less likely due to the red tides and the slicks of the rigs leaking and blow outs.Estuaries and birthing grounds of the coastal marshes,brackish to over winter the sea birds and crustacians,crabs ever plentiful in the past are now just mostly a dream...What say you to the crabbers and shrimpers and redfish gleaners for trade and for license is pricy and hard fought...maintain your quota or loose next year come.

We sang the song of the trade by the moon...'Shrimp boats are a comin' their sails are in sight' Shrimp boats a comin' there 'll be dancin' tonite."

Reviews

[Hayley]

What a nice ending! I can't even begin to tell you what the imagery evokes in me. I always like to read about sea life and ships and such; It's just an odd interest of mine for some reason. Hearty from beginning to finish!

[Nobody.]

:) Love this. Put myself through college working on longline boats and Gulf workboats. These descriptions sound like home. Spend my days, now, finding jobs for seafarers the world over. I'm married to the Sea, just like the man you describe here. Beautiful movement, and brilliant imagery throughout. I've done that shrimp shuffle a time or ten, too.
Cheers!

[Ruth]

I love this!

I have a longing for the sea and its cunning enchantement!

Such description here love, the very first line draws it all in superbly! He was of everything it holds...immersed!

This has so lost me for a while...I think I shall re-read and have a cuppa...dream a while of lands I have maybe known before :)

Brilliant!

A fav xoxo

[Poetic Beauty]

There are so many trades that are being left in the dust and one day we are going to need them. This story shows one of those trades. Your story reminds us that we should think about life and the world around us. I love the details in this story and the ocean...what's not to love about the ocean. She is beautiful and temperamental like any other woman. She is stunning and a mystery. Excellent piece you have here my friend.

[joshua deathdealer]

Wow i was really swept up in the imagery and feel of this masterful write. Excellent work sir..xx

[Mark]

Having lived in south Louisiana up until 2005, I am very familiar with the songs of the shrimpers, and the culture that is passed on father-to-son. Apart from a few misspellings (biscuit, excluders, crabbers), I find no flaw in this delightful story. I, like Emma, could plainly hear the conversation of the gulls...though Pacific gulls are not quite so polite! ("Heya, bub, gimme dat, or I'll poop on ya!")...and smell the salt air on those inflowing breezes. Thanks for the sweet trip down memory lane: my first home was San Diego, so the sea is very much a part of my life and ethos!

[?]

Has a lil lyrical feel to it. lol
What a picture you have painted with your words here. The whole thing plays over in my mind as I read/see. Wonderful discriptive work.
Enjoyed this one for sure.

[InkSlinger]

This feels like home to me.. your words have never been more true, or more authentic... I could smell the diesel, see the gulls circling above, hanging in the salty air, waiting, watching for the scraps. Sad, how this lifestyle is fading to a mere memory. Loved it!

[kittykat]

I love it