Naming Technique of the Night-Chapter 660 - 401 Arctic_4
Chapter 660: 401, Arctic_4
Chapter 660: 401, Arctic_4
King crabs thrive in the ice-cold seas 270 meters deep, and after this season, fully grown King crabs will head to even deeper waters, making them harder to catch.
At this moment, the Walnut Bar was permeated with a distinct damp odor, the salty fishiness of the sea brought in by sailors and captains, as if a group of marine creatures had gained sentience and gathered in the world of humans.
The sailors were quietly drinking beer while stealthily eyeing the table in the middle, where three burly Nordic men and one Asian youth sat, creating a tense atmosphere.
They were four captains in negotiation.
A burly white captain looked at the Asian youth and said coldly, “Zhang, your boat is too small. Over the years, everyone else has switched to 147-foot crabbing vessels, and only you are still using a 120-foot crabbing boat from over twenty years ago. This year, you spent four hundred thousand euros on repairs alone, not to mention the crab pots are all rented.”
One foot is approximately 30 centimeters, so a 120-foot boat would be around 40 meters in length.
However, a 147-foot crabbing vessel isn’t merely larger in size compared to a 120-foot crabbing boat.
The cargo hold for storing King crabs, the crane arms for lifting the crab pots, they’re all on a wholly different level.
Another captain said, “We acknowledge your father was the finest Crab Catcher, he always found the best King Crab fishing zones every year. But Zhang, you really aren’t cut out for this line of work. Last year, you only made enough to cover the fuel, and this year, you even struggled to find any sailors willing to go to sea with you. Without an experienced captain and seasoned sailors on deck, the crew will meet their end.”
The young man named Zhang Jian had taken over the profession and the old crabbing boat from his father at an early age.
His father had succumbed to lung cancer, leaving Zhang Jian nothing but an inheritance, a crabbing sea chart, and an old boat.
Zhang Jian wasn’t entirely inexperienced, as he had been going to sea with his father for several years.
But when it came to skills and experience, handling situations, he indeed paled in comparison to the other captains.
A sailor’s income is directly tied to the quantity of King crabs caught; so if the captain can’t find the right fishing spots, then the sailors’ income would plummet.
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At the round table, Zhang Jian looked coldly at the other three captains and asked, “You didn’t call me over just to say a few rubbish words, did you?”
One white captain said, “We know you have a 300,000-pound quota for this year. Sell it to us, and you could have a substantial income without even going to sea. Give us the boat, and you can be the shipowner.”
Another captain chimed in, “Zhang, if you can’t conquer the Barents Sea, let us do it.”
Here, a ship might not necessarily be privately owned; a vessel could have many shareholders.
Shareholders may not know how to catch crabs but can invest and then receive dividends.
And there are only so many vessels eligible for crabbing licenses. For example, if a ship has a quota of 300,000 pounds, exceeding this number would result in steep fines.
This is one of Europe’s measures to protect the marine ecosystem.
So, these captains saw that Zhang Jian, the Asian, couldn’t complete a crew of seven sailors and sought to buy his quota at a low price, which would mean profit for everyone.
But Zhang Jian wasn’t willing to do that. He shook his head and said, “This boat was left to me by my father, and I have the capability to steer it to the Barents Sea to catch King crabs.”
A ruckus of scoffs and jeers erupted in the Walnut Bar, as though Zhang Jian had just told a joke.
One captain said, “Last year, you only caught 70,000 pounds of King crabs in two trips, barely enough to pay for fuel. Zhang, sailors go out to sea to make a living, not to admire the scenery with you. This year, you’ve only recruited three sailors, one an old man who once sailed with your father, and the other two greenhorns with no sea experience. You still need at least two more even for the bare minimum. Can you recruit them? If not, how do you plan to go to sea?”
Another captain sneered, “What, is the captain supposed to personally haul up the crab pots on deck? Then who would be at the helm in the wheelhouse?”
Zhang Jian looked defiantly at the captains, seemingly at a loss for a response.
As the other party said, he indeed couldn’t recruit the last two sailors.
Every year, many newcomers wanted to join the crab catching industry at this port, and in theory, he could have tricked some novices into boarding his ship.
But it seemed the captains had conspired, telling the newcomers about how miserable Zhang Jian’s last two years had been.
As a result, Zhang Jian couldn’t even recruit a full crew this year.
However, just then, the door of the Walnut Bar was pushed open.
The door chime jingled crisply as a gust of winter chill backdrafted into the bar, and a young man entered, smiling broadly, carrying the cold of winter with him.
That gust of cold air felt like it had transported everyone ahead of time to the icy, bone-chilling Barents Sea, and the black night outside the bar resembled that black sea.
The young man noticed everyone in the bar suddenly turned to look at him, and without any stage fright, asked in English, “Good evening, everyone. I was told I could find work in crab catching here?”
Zhang Jian’s eyes lit up, but instantly dimmed again.
Because he knew all too well what would happen next.
And the young man looked too frail, too young; perhaps he had just graduated from high school? Or even dropped out of high school.
He was indeed quite handsome, but the Barents Sea cared not for looks.
A captain eyed the youth: “You’re so young and already out working?”
The young man smiled: “Is that not allowed? I need to support my family. I heard the Arctic hasn’t filled its crew, which one of you is the captain of the Arctic?”
Zhang Jian raised his head: “I am.”
But another captain chuckled to the young man, “You want to join the Arctic as a sailor, but do you know that last year the Arctic barely made enough from catching King Crabs to cover its fuel costs?”
The young man explained with a smile, “My teacher told me, in the first year of entering an industry, one shouldn’t worry too much about income—gaining experience is key!”
A sailor joked, “What kind of experience can you get on the Arctic? Learning how to play the harmonica from Zhang? He’s good at playing the harmonica, but not so much at catching King Crab. Last year I sailed with him, and I nearly got scolded to death by my wife for the meager pay I brought home.”
A captain looked at Zhang Jian and smiled, “Besides, are you willing to let such a frail sailor on board? What could he possibly do on the deck? I fear he doesn’t even have the strength to move the crab pots.”
Zhang Jian sat silently at the table, knowing that the young man would soon give up on the Arctic and then board another crabbing vessel, or perhaps leave Amsterdam altogether.
In any case, he would not join the Arctic.
By then, Zhang Jian didn’t care whether the young man was frail or not; anyone willing to join the Arctic was welcome, even if it meant just cooking for the crew.
The next moment, as Zhang Jian looked down, a hand suddenly extended towards him.
He looked up in surprise to see the young man standing beside him, smiling, “You’re the captain, right? My name is Qing Chen, and I happen to be Asian as well. I’d be happy to join your Arctic if you’ll have me.”
Zhang Jian was stunned for a moment before quickly standing up to shake Qing Chen’s hand: “Welcome aboard, I’m so glad to have you.”
…
Seven thousand word chapter, another one coming at 11 PM
