Hearken to this story:
The crew of Les Bons Temps (The Good Occasions) hoped to make it residence earlier than darkish. It was early afternoon, the climate was rising colder, the radar warned of rain, and this was their second day aboard the 30-foot (nine-metre) boat, which was now spitting black exhaust over the waters of the brackish marsh. Captain Scott Maurer reduce the motor.
The starboard engine was vibrating, and 45-year-old Maurer was fearful. The crew tied the boat to a piling in a slim channel of the Barataria wetlands. There wasn’t one other soul in sight. In each path, tall marsh grass swayed within the wind.
Usually, if Maurer bumped into hassle close to his oyster farm on Grand Isle, he’d name on one other boat for assist – however this waterway sees much less visitors than his regular fishing grounds, and the one boats in sight have been two tugs within the distance, slowly towing an infinite floating oil rig.
The crew of Les Bons Temps was on their manner from New Orleans to the Gulf of Mexico, a journey of roughly 160km (100 miles). Nobody on board had made the journey earlier than.
Standing on the helm in hazard-orange rain gear, Maurer fearful aloud that the boat had hit one thing within the shallow waters, damaging a propellor.
“May very well be storm particles,” he mused.
The water was an opaque brown, however 33-year-old deckhand Luke LaCava, a bright-eyed and curious Alaska fisherman who had been chain-smoking off the strict, volunteered to leap in. He placed on a wetsuit, hopped off the transom, and disappeared under the floor. With out goggles, he must blindly grope alongside the propellor shaft beneath the boat.
In spring, this space could be teeming with alligators, however in January, there have been none to be seen. LaCava reappeared, shivering. “Nothing,” he mentioned.
Utilizing his fingers to make the form of the blades within the air, Maurer gestured to verify each shafts. LaCava took a deep breath and went again beneath.
A number of seconds later, he re-emerged, gasping. “The propellor shaft has rope wrapped round it,” he mentioned, wiping his face and spitting out bitter water.
Nathan Herring, a 32-year-old Grand Isle oyster farmer, rapidly fetched a knife from the boat’s galley and handed it to LaCava, who dove once more as soon as, twice, earlier than lastly rising with a bit of black nylon crab lure line. His efforts earned him fistbumps from the crew.
With the road free, LaCava climbed aboard and Maurer fired up each engines. For a second, he assessed their sound: higher. Then Les Bons Temps was off once more, heading for open water.