Shaky Business

by Foster, Ron

  Shaky

  Business

  Ron Foster

  Alabama, USA

  © 2016 by Ron Foster

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13:

  978-1534693562

  ISBN-10:

  1534693564

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Preface

  This covers image represents a 19th century book print engraving depicts tongers at work. Tonging off these little boats was always considered a "shaky business". The two tongers dump their haul into a wooden tray mounted across the craft's center section for sorting oysters from unwanted debris (rocks, empty seashells, dead oysters etc...)

  Tribute to an Oyster Tonger, A Chesapeake Waterman statue at Annmarie Gardens in Solomons Maryland by Antonio Mendez

  Acknowledgements

  www.SurvivalistGear.com

  A DIVISION OF

  OUTSIDE THE BOX OUTDOORS

  1

  Don’t Rock The Boat

  Spoman, Julius and Otis stopped their sweaty labors of pulling on the heavy 12 ft. or so long wooden handles of their oyster tongs long enough to study the approaching sailboat and note it wasn’t anybody they recognized and quickly headed for their rusty old firearms. You couldn’t be too careful these days they figured, hard experience had taught them many lessons and they squinted their eyes and waited in the hot sun until the strangers boat got within hailing distance.

  Long before the solar storm had taken technology down in their area, the Apalachicola Bay and its tributary rivers were seemingly stuck in their own time capsule, things just didn’t change much around there. Unlike the rest of the country, which usually either harvests oysters using motorized dredges pulled behind boats or leased aquaculture farms raising oysters in bags and cages, Apalachicola Bay was always somehow full of oystermen working the oyster bars the same way they have for centuries.

  They used long, wooden-handled tongs to pull the oysters into small oyster boats and made a living of sorts by then culling the oysters by hand, filling sacks, and dropping them off at local restaurants and processors.

  An old black sea captain named Saul who lived in the area was often quoted as saying “I have been a waterman of one sort or another a long time now, these days I'm a tonger. My father was a tonger. There's been tongers in my family as far back as I can remember.” This quote could also be uttered by most anyone found living on his side of the bay.

  The only noticeable differences for these communities living day to day now and before was that their lifestyle remained pretty much unchanged. There wasn’t much to worry about now other than that they had no gas to run an outboard boat motor and the fact they had no restaurants or processors to sell their oyster catch to for cash. Life went on, with or without the cash and there was nothing to buy anyway.

  They still hunted and fished, they still got up in the morning and grew for themselves and their families small gardens and managed to eke out a living for themselves and their families someway. This normalcy was theirs regardless if technology had taken a nose dive and changed many plans.

  The same old hates and stupid prejudices still existed on the mainland that had followed them over the countless years as the backwoods country maligned underdogs of Franklin County. However, for the most part things had actually seemed to have changed for the better in some ways for them ever since the geomagnetic storm had taken the electrical grid down. The community was more cohesive and self supporting. Nobody had to go hungry and nobody usually refused if asked for help.

  It wasn’t always that way around here, no far from it. The oyster wars for rights to good fishing grounds still remained vivid and fresh in everyone’s minds. The stark realities of the threat of being visited by occasional pirates or trigger happy survivors who sailed into their domain hailing from parts unknown loomed frequently enough to bedevil their bay with needless bloodshed.

  Any unknown boat sailing their waters was a cause for alarm and dreaded suspicion and on this occasion the fishing boats crew waited apprehensively as old Saul stood up in the bow with his ancient 30-30 rifle to confront the seagoing would be trespassers seen approaching.

  The old black man who stood on the boats slowly heaving deck was of average height; he wore a white beard and aged silver hair drenched in sweat from the heat. He sported a slight smile on his interesting creased and lined face which had been burned darker and weathered like old mahogany wood by his many years of working in the sun and salt of the bay.

  The sea had taken its toll on him but not his spirit or wisdom. He regarded the approaching boat with milky cataract eyes attempting to actually see the threat for himself somewhat as his crew of younger stalwarts spoke to him in cautious low descriptive tones of the appearance of the possible approaching sailboat danger.

  Old Saul couldn’t have hit the broad side of a fish cannery with that old Winchester rifle of his and he held it at the ready mostly for show and his own ego. His vision handicap as the Captain was overlooked though as his crew waited patiently for further directions from him because Saul had for himself and others a lifetime of knowledge of fishing the ocean and dealing with ruffians on the high seas to share. He spoke little but meaningfully as they readied to meet the strangers.

  He was the trusted community patriarch and everyone swore he could actually smell an oyster bed in the shallow waters of the bay or know a man’s intentions with just a few words said. This was his boat, as worn-out of an old wooden relic as the grainy lines in his blue black colored face said he was for the whole world to see.

  However, even if his dimming old eyes were failing, his other senses were acute in ways that only a man raised in the backwaters of this bay who had a special primordial feel for all things oyster tonging. He could taste the water and tell you where you were at on the bay and how far the next shoal was and he had unerring aim with his cast hand line to catch the first fish that sometimes schooled near his rickety boat.

  A lot of mussels, oyster drills (snails), and other oyster competitors/predators come up with the oysters in the tongs. These Saul and his mates smashed and the soupy globs got tossed overboard, so often times pretty quickly there were swarms of huge catfish circling around the boat.

  Perhaps it was possible old Saul could point the rusty old rifle of his instinctively and hit something with that relic of a weapon of his sort of like he did with a hand line or harpoon but none knew for certain. His crew doubted that untried wisdom of allowing him a shot and took their own studied and tried and true alligator hunting skills accurate aim at the sailors approaching regardless of Saul’s instructions to keep their weapons pointed down.

  “Ahoy there Captain! May I approach?” Hobe called out while letting his sails luff in the wind about 50 yards away.

  “Maybe so young fella, what do you want with us?” Saul called out like he was scolding the sheriff himself who had asked to come into his church during services uninvited and was about to be denied until they were over.

  “Just to talk with you some about fishing, maybe to trade a little if you want. My names Hobe, this here is my first mate Randal and I got myself two crew below that will be up in a minute.” Hobe called back while casually holding his 12 gauge shotgun in one hand letting its barrel point down casually as Randal busied himself by lowering the main sail slowly with his rifle slung on his shoulder.

  “You all just float over there a few minutes and we will get the paddles out and come over to you, just stay where you are at. Do me a favor and tell the rest of your crew to go ahead and come topside! I would kind of like to see everybody all at once and no surprises, if you know what I mean.” Saul bellowed and then told his crew to hoist the anchor while getting from them whispered advice about the stranger’s boat and cre
ws demeanors.

  “Sure captain, will do! No problem, they were just working on getting some lunch together for us.” Hobe said before hollering down in the hold for the men to come on up right now. Shortly thereafter, Crick poked his head up carrying his FN-Fal .308 caliber rifle by its handle.

  Crick acted as the boats long range gunner and had been watching the tonger’s boat surreptitiously through a porthole ever since they had first spotted it. Hobe liked to call the impressive rifle their “elephant gun” because its powerful rounds were more than capable for taking any game in North America as well as penetrating most boat hulls they might encounter.

  His buddy Morgan soon joined him carrying his tactical turkey Mossberg shotgun and waved a greeting to the other boat.

  “Y’all don’t appear to be in no distress, a bit well armed I reckon for a casual meeting though, everything ok with y’all?” Saul called back as the dory was rowed over to the sailboat by Spoman and crew manning the oars.

  “We are just fine, no worries here and no problems to speak of. We just saw your boat and wanted to see if you wanted to trade some of those shellfish and maybe get ourselves a little bit more information on these waters.” Hobe called back.

  “What is it that you are wanting to trade me for a bushel sack full of prime oysters?” Saul said getting closer to being at least able to make out the boat’s sailing configuration some with his old eyes.

  “Well, I always say that when it comes to trading that depends on how proud of whatever it is you are bartering for but I am sure we can work something out. Are you interested in doing an exchange in cash or barter?” Hobe said catching the line that Otis threw him as Randal watched the other boats crew carefully but friendly enough while trying not to show the .45 pistol he had holstered in the small of his back.

  “Been so long since I sold any oysters for cash money I wouldn’t even begin to know how much to ask. Course any kind of folding money is as scarce as hen’s teeth these days. We used to get back in the day $20 a bag but it ain’t like you boys can run to an ATM or the bank and get more cash so I won’t be pricing them so high maybe.” Saul said with a gap toothed friendly grin.

  “Saul please consider there really isn’t anywhere for us to go spend that kind of cash on something else at either these days, which is of course even if we both had that sum handy. That offer does seem to me to be a bit high of a price for us to start at though if you don’t mind me saying it. That’s a fine mess of oysters you got there. The mornings been good fishing for you I see.” Hobe said watching the other boats crew appearing to visibly relax as just the age old bantering bickering about the price of oysters seemed to be going on.

  “The best oysters anywhere in the world come out of this bay. You ain’t from around here I know, what brings you this way? Did you get yourselves caught in that storm last week and manage to get blew off course?” Saul said trying to judge the strangers intentions a bit more.

  “Yes Captain we sure did, drat the luck. That was sure a whopper of a squall; we thought it was going to turn into a hurricane the way it was blowing... Me and Randall hid out in port in Panama City Beach for a day or two and basically twiddled our thumbs and bailed water.” Hobe said.

  “I am forgetting my manners Captain Hobe; this here’s Spoman, Julius and Otis.” Saul said introducing his crew.

  “How is the beach looking over there by the mainland these days? We haven’t travelled any further than to a couple river towns around here in years.” Saul declared.

  “It is pretty torn up in places, still standing in others, looks like it got hit hard by that hurricane we had a couple years ago. We didn’t get off and wander around much, didn’t see anyone either but we shipped out as soon as the weather lifted.” Hobe said wondering how many people might still be making their homes on the formerly popular vacation beach.

  “The worst of that hellacious storm kind of missed us over here. I sure do miss them hurricane alerts and storm tracking on the TV that will tell you when to batten down the hatch. We didn’t even know it was coming until too late, no batteries for the radio you see and no news for some time now. Not that those nationwide weather reports you might occasionally hear still on the emergency broadcast system are much good. Them weathermen without their satellites ain’t worth a durn at predicting even rain. Heard tell the government is going to try to send a new satellite up in space this year.” Saul said regarding how just about all the satellites circling the world got zapped even though most were somewhat shielded and turned off or away from the anticipation of the geomagnetic storm hitting the earth broadside when it was first detected.

  “I hadn’t heard that about a new satellite maybe getting launched. It could be I guess maybe that we still got more infrastructure in the government existing than I thought. Probably they are thinking it will be a replacement for GPS or something, I always understood that our military was entirely too dependent on it for navigation. Speaking of which, do you know what goes on with the Naval and Air bases over by Panama City?” Hobe asked as the two boats bobbed in the waves.

  “I dunno what they are up to, I haven’t seen even a Coast Guard cutter boat out in the bay in I don’t know how long.” Saul said scratching his head.

  “Captain Yanous, who is a friend of ours over that way said they are still manned but not too many military personnel about, don’t know what happened to all the troops but the installations are all looking kind of deserted. Guess they are now just doing some kind of coast watcher duty or something to see if Cuba invades.” Otis said leaning against his rickety boats mast.

  “I believe that those facilities in the past were mostly being used as training bases except for some of the naval observatories. They most likely probably consolidated all the fulltime military personnel somewhere else like Pensacola, I know that there was a conspiracy theory going on back before this shit happened that there was some kind of big secret government base and prison down that way built for crap like this.”Crick declared standing next to Hobe at the wheel and leaning his rifle against the hatch.

  “I always wondered about that place down there. The conspiracy theorists say the National Forest there had a Federal prison stuck in it that officially didn’t exist back in there somewhere if I remember right.” Hobe said considering.

  “I don’t know about all that, Captain Yanous said that he used to be able to trade for some supplies or his fishing catch with the military bases but now he says he won’t go near them. Did you all go by the State park? Supposed to be some game wardens and such holed up there.” Saul said leaning against his boats white paint cracked bow.

  “Well before you said that I was seriously thinking about heading over there eventually to check it out but I guess we will leave it alone now.” Hobe said concerned about the news.

  “I am just telling you what little bit I know about the place and advising caution. Haven’t had anybody say they got messed with down that way none or heard any other bad news about them park rangers except they are still there. All I heard was just that they were there and keeping an official presence I guess you might say. The word is they got some regular civilian campers staying over there still but I don’t know what kind of setup they got since the world went to hell in a hand basket. I have been real curious myself about that place, could be I could sell some oysters around there if it was worth the trip and not too dangerous.” Saul said reaching for a big oyster shell close to the top of a half full bushel bag.

  “Y’all want to have a taste of Ambrosia? Nothing like a fresh oyster just plucked from the ocean.” Saul said reaching for an oyster shucking knife.

  “I thought you would never ask, Saul!” Hobe said with a grin and went quickly to the rail to receive an oyster on the half shell that he slurped down in one motion with his left hand while reaching for another with his right while relishing its salty flavor.

  Crick and the rest of his sailboats crew lined up for a yummy taste and they all sort of laughed good naturedly and said
they didn’t care when Saul reminded them that oysters were the only thing we eat that is alive.

  “If they wasn’t alive and shut down tight they wouldn’t be no good for eating anymore!” Randal said slurping one down and then rolling his eyes back in pleasure at the taste of it.

  When Hobe said that he had some hot sauce and lemon juice aboard it was game on and Katie bar the door with the eating and happy dickering for oysters as those two commodities were extremely scarce and missed around Saul’s neck of the woods and his community were all kind of tired of eating oysters without its added familiar comfort and diversity of taste.

  Hobe said he regretted that he didn’t have any saltine crackers to go with them but he offered as an alternative some hard tack or tortillas if anyone wanted to give the new apocalyptic cracker alternative a try.

  Otis and Spoman bemoaned and whined reminiscently about the fact that they hadn’t seen any bit of cooking oil for some time now let alone any corn meal or flour to fry up oysters with. The end of fried oysters? Sacrilegious! The apocalypse was sure evidenced on everybody now that had to do without that staple of life as part of their diet! They all soon became downright giddy, no; jubilant was the word about the prospect of obtaining some of the precious flour and meal when Hobe offered to trade them some fried oyster fixings. Well that wasn’t totally true as Hobe explained that they didn’t have any real bottles of cooking oil but he did have some pig lard that they could do the job with.