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with respects to my muse,180........this ones for you on the release of your book, Ed.
Motoring thru Kemp channel off Cudjoe Key 5 days into a 10 day vacation with the first mate and crew well aboard. Its off-season and we have the waterways pretty much to ourselves, in 2 days out on these backwaters we've seen 3 other boats total. Makes for good fishing.
I'm trying to maneuver Gusto, our 25 foot center console, into a position where we can chum up some snapper against a bank, but I misjudged the wind and the current and by the time the anchor is hooked, we've swung off of the channel edge and up on the flat.
Cursing under my breath, I look over the side to check our depth. Right there under our rig, half buried in the eel grass and the sandy marl, is an old spiney lobster trap. Lobster season has been closed for months and wont open for 2 more, this trap has been there for too long with nowhere else to go. Its old, I can tell, but still intact. From where I'm peering, I can see the antennae of several large lobster poking out of the trap slats.
"Holy Shit!" I say "A ghost trap, and the bastard is full!"
It was one of those exclamations that the minute it goes out, you know you're in for trouble.
"Honey, don't swear in front of the kids", the first mate says. Thats not half the trouble I've caused for now, I have to face the crew too.
The youngest, a lad of 5, and the oldest, a soft-heated girl of 10, are staring at me, wide-eyed, jaws agape. The middle child, the clever one destined to be a lawyer, fixes me with a skeptical look and asks with just a tinge of fear in her voice.
"Whats a ghost trap Daddy?"
Now kids are funny. You can feed the 6 foot nurse shark that hangs around the fish cleaning table with the offal from your catch and they will watch in amazement. They will squeal with joy when Mr Barracuda, teeth flashing and tail splashing, tears the snapper off their hook, leaving only half a bloody head hanging right there at the transom. They will chase the large, ugly iguanas that hang out on the seawall and even give me the creeps. But no kid cottons to ghosts, not even in broad daylight. Thats scary business.
"Its a lobster trap thats lost its bouy. Nobody can see it, nobody knows its here. It 'prolly got blown away in a storm. Its been here for a long while. Come see." I tell them.
My voice is heavy, because I cant tell them the rest, that it is a killing machine. Lobster keep crawling in and cant get out, thatrs the reason they call 'em ghost traps. Once inside, it's survival of the fittest. I'll have skip that part, for now.
The kind-hearted lass gulps so hard I can hear it. " Daddy," she asks
"does it catch ghosts?" There is no hiding the fear in her voice quivering.
I've learned that a good hearty laugh at times like this does alot to ease the tension. I let it ring out across the water pealing the fear away.
" No silly, it catches only lobster! No worries, you guys, come see." We all bend over the gunnel, looking into the clear water, I show them the trap, the crawfish poking out the sides.
"Its a treasure chest!", the lad yells, "Pirates put it there!" He's afraid of ghosts, but thinks pirates are great, go figure.
"No son, the lobsterman put the trap out", I explain.
"Oooh Daddy, can they get out of there?" She has a soft spot for critters in distress, that one.
"No honey, thats why they call it a trap." Her fear has turned sadness.
"Are they good to eat?" the budding lawyer asks.
"Why, yes, punkin' they are delicious, I like the way you think, girl."
The first mate, after 13 years of marriage has the ability to read my mind, pipes up.
"Captain daddy", her voice rising "dont you even think about it! The marine patrol will take our boat away." She's right,as usual, and of course. The season is closed and the law is strict regarding this species. Even if we touch 'em , we could be punished.
" I wont poach them none, mom, me and the kids will set them go free"
This proclamation is greeted with great enthusiasm by the young ones on the deck. The first mate was pleased as well. She, the one who likes to eat them most, I thought to myself.
"Put your masks and fins on,gang, we are going to rescue some lobsters!"
Strong swimmers all, and even though it was shallow water, I stood up on the pedestal seat to check the waters about for sharks and sting rays, just to be safe. I'll be damned if I didnt see something that every waterman should know: where there's one, there's a ton. All up and down the bank, every 20 yards or so, there were ghost traps, 10 of them in all. They must've got blown away in the same storm, and washed up here on the currents.
We then spent the better part of the morning opening the traps, freeing the ghosts from their old coffins. The wood was rotted and broke open easily. There were at least 10 keeper spiny crawfish, some of the largest I ever caught, in each trap. The crew had a blast holding and inspecting them, freeing and watching them swim away.
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