The cold and salty spray, stung your cheeks. A constant, icy slap. Each wave that crashed against the hull sent a shudder through the deck, a vibration that rattled your bones. Your gloved fingers, already numb, that fumbled with the thick rope, the coarse fibers slick with seawater and ice. The wind, a relentless mistress, whipped around you, trying to tear at the waterproof and the worst colored neon yellow suit-that you ever wore.

The heavy crab pot that was encrusted with barnacles and seaweed- groaned as it slowly rose from the churning depths.

King crabs, their shells a mottled brown. Scuttled and snapped within the confines of the pot. You watched as the other crew members quickly assessed their size. Tossing back the undersized ones and the females back into the ocean. The others are thrown into the icy water as a temporary containment for the ones the crew deems perfect before they reach the market.