The Big Snapper (2 page)

“It seemed the fellows were in the middle of choosing teams for a basketball game. I guess he decided I'd make a good center. I was in no position to say no, so I took my place on his team. I could feel the eyes of the captain of the other team on my back as I crossed the yard. When I turned he slammed a fist against the concrete wall and glowered at me. I swallowed hard.

“The game didn't last very long. There was a referee, but he was knocked out for calling a penalty in the first minute. Everything went downhill from there. There were fouls for holding, scratching, hair-pulling and wedgie-giving. But no one to call them. Breakaways ended in pileups, and the point guards were held in head-locks if they tried to make a play. I worked hard though, despite facing a crowd of angry mugs every time I headed down the court. I'd learned from my granddad to try my best no matter how strange the circumstances seemed.

“It was ten to nothing for us. I'd scored all but two points when I was set up for another dunk. I had the ball. All at once the defense on the
other team rushed me. Grabbing me around the knees and chest, they swept me off my feet. The captain counted to three and they heave-hoed. I flew into the air, leaving that yard the same way as I'd come in. It was a good thing those fellows were strong, because they pitched me a long way. I landed in San Francisco Bay. Spotting my boat on the rocks, I swam back to it.

“There wasn't much damage other than that big dent. It proved to still be seaworthy, so I started the engine and headed for home.”

“Wow,” says Eddie when he realizes Granddad is finished his story. “And that was the first time you saw him?”

“The very first time. Now, look here, Eddie. We've got something.” Granddad tests the line. “You get the gaff ready in case it's one of those hundred pound halibuts like we caught last year.”

It's late afternoon when Eddie and Granddad start toward the wharf with four rock cod in their basket. Eddie wishes there were more. He knows his mother will say it's barely enough to feed the family, let alone leave any extra to sell to the cannery.

Eddie's gaze wanders across the gray sea. He watches a flock of cormorants bob on the waves, but he is also always on the lookout for the big snapper. If they could catch the big snapper— well, that would change things for sure! Grandma could buy new glasses so she didn't trip over things, and Mom could buy a vacuum cleaner to replace her worn-out broom. And maybe if there was enough left over Eddie could buy his own
bike instead of sharing the beat-up old thing he'd found in the dump with his friend, Jake. Eddie's eyes settle on a spot, which, as he watches, becomes the ferry from the mainland.

Eddie has never been to the mainland. It's hundreds of miles away from Haida Gwaii, or the Queen Charlotte Islands, where he lives. In the summer, the ferry brings tourists from Prince Rupert to Graham Island, which is the largest of the islands. Wearing shorts and sun hats, they spill from the belly of the boat in their trucks and campers. They clamber across the beaches and roar about in speedboats, startling the bald eagles that perch in the gnarled arbutus trees on shore. They fill the village with chatter as they walk up and down the dirt road, looking for things to buy.

Granddad tells Eddie that the tourists bring money to the island. This may be so, but Eddie has always preferred their home in the winter. This is when the winds howl through Hecate Strait, whipping the chop to dangerous heights, and the ferry sometimes does not run at all. Eddie and Granddad and all those who live year-round on the island have the beaches and the fish to themselves.

Seagulls circle above the skiff, screaming for the fish Eddie has caught. He leaps to the wharf and secures the boat. He helps Granddad to his feet then carries the tackle and baskets to the house. Granddad has difficulty walking—he shuffles slowly, like something's holding him back. “Some days it feels like the anchor's got tangled around my ankle,” he'd once told Eddie. “But when I look down there's nothing there.”

Much to Eddie's surprise, Mom is not interested in their catch. She is rearranging the cabin. She has come up with a plan.

“We are going to invite tourists to stay with us,” she tells them. “Eddie, they will stay in your room. You will bunk with Granddad and Grandma will sleep with me. It's what the tourists call a bed and breakfast. Now, I want you to clear your desk and move all your books into Granddad's room. I need a space to serve breakfast to our guests. We don't have much but we want to make them comfortable. And don't look so glum, it's only for the summer.”

Eddie does as he's told. He and Granddad eat the supper Grandma has prepared while his mother continues to fuss in his room. She carries his clam-digging shovel and his specially
crafted rock-turning stick to Granddad's room. She replaces the curtains Grandma had sewn from sheets, with lacey store-bought ones. “An expense we can hardly afford, but you have to invest money to make money,” she explains.

Mom plumps up the bed with the fancy tick quilt made by Great Aunt Ellen. She decorates the room with the baskets Grandma weaves from spruce roots. Finally she smacks her palms together. “There.”

Grandma bumps her knee on the desk on her way into Eddie's room. She stands next to Mom, squinting. “It looks lovely. Your guests should be very comfortable, dear.”

Eddie heads outside to call on Jake.

“I wouldn't want to sleep with my grandfather,” Jake tells Eddie. He is riding the dented old bike they'd rescued from the dump. The boys are headed down the gravel road toward the park. “He snores louder than a jackhammer and he farts. And I sure wouldn't want just anyone staying in my room.”

“Mom says we'll make more money in four months than in a whole year of fishing.”

“It's too bad...” Jake starts to say something, but he doesn't finish.

“What's too bad?” prompts Eddie.

Jake stops riding. From where they stand on the small hill in the park, far to the east they can see the dark mass, which is the mainland. “I was just thinking it's too bad about your dad.” He shrugs. “I mean, that you don't have him to go fishing with, like Fred.”

Eddie knows Jake isn't trying to be mean, but he doesn't need to be told this either. For many reasons, life would be so much better if his dad was still around. Eddie's father had said he was tired of fishing when he'd boarded the ferry to the mainland a year earlier. He was off to find a more exciting job. Not a day went by that Eddie didn't think about him and wonder why he'd never come back.

“Oh, well,” says Jake as he hops off the bike, “it's just the way it is. Maybe your mom's got a good idea. The Johnson's do the same thing. They take in tourists and they bought a computer last fall. Here, I'll set up the jump. You take the first run.”

Eddie lies on a makeshift cot in Granddad's room, surrounded by all of their stuff. Eddie is waiting for Granddad to start snoring like a
jackhammer. He's already opened the window in case he makes that other noise. So far, he's been quiet.

“Granddad?” Eddie whispers, realizing he also must still be awake.

“Yes, Eddie?”

“How come my dad never came back from the mainland?”

Granddad props himself up on an elbow. Eddie can see the outline of his thin body beneath the blanket in the pale light. “You know, I can't answer that for sure. But I think it has something to do with the mainland being like a crab trap.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know how a crab smells that bait and finds his way in. And once he's there, he finds that he's stuck. He could conceivably get out again the way he came in but he's confused and he can't figure it out.”

“Oh,” says Eddie. He remembers the last time he'd talked to his dad. As soon as he'd saved enough money, he'd told Eddie over the phone, he'd bring them all to the mainland. That was more than six months ago. “Do you think my dad might still figure it out?”

“It's possible.”

Eddie hopes his dad is smarter than a crab. His mind drifts to something else. “Granddad?”

“Yes?”

“If I ever do see the big snapper—how will I know it's him?”

“Oh, now that I can answer. You'll know because you've never seen a snapper so big. But in case there's any doubt—you'll know by the notch in his dorsal fin. He got it from a run-in with my prop.”

Eddie sits up suddenly, cross-legged on his cot. “When did that happen?”

“Let me see, now. That must have been close to forty years ago. I remember because it was shortly after your grandmother and I were married, but before your dad was born. I'd just finished building this cabin. I'd cut and planed every one of these cedar planks myself.

“We'd just moved in. I'd left your grandmother to putter around, arranging the furniture while I did a little fishing. A heavy mist had settled in some days before and made it difficult to see. I cut the engine about a mile out and began drifting. I thought I'd do a little trolling. The fog was thick but the water was calm and sounds carried a long way. In the distance, I heard a
sea otter call for its mate. And closer at hand, I heard a humpback breathe.

“I'd already pulled in two good-sized flounders when I felt another fish tug on my line. I had a strong hunch it was that snapper. I could just tell by the way he grabbed hold of the lure then proceeded to steal my line. When he'd taken it all, he began dragging me along with him.”

“Like the time he pulled you to Alcatraz?”

“Much like that. But this time, it was slower. And then, just like that, he stopped. I squinted into the fog and realized we were still in the bay. I wondered what had made him quit.”

“Had you seen him yet?”

“Nope. It was still just a hunch that it was the snapper. But then—woosh!—there I was sitting fifty feet in the air in my skiff! That darn snapper had placed me right over the humpback's blowhole. And there he was, in the waves below, laughing through the mist.”

“You were sitting on top of the whale's spout?”

“Well, yes, for a matter of a few seconds. But then that whale took a notion to dive. And it was sooner than the snapper must have thought, because he was now in the path of
my falling boat. I'll tell you, that snapper's grin disappeared real quick. His eyes widened when he saw the boat coming at him and he did a couple of backstrokes before he turned to dive. Still, he wasn't quick enough. My boat hit the water. At the same time, the prop took a chunk of his dorsal fin. A small orange piece flew off. It was snatched from the air, gobbled up by a passing gull.”

“What about you—were you hurt?”

“Me? Oh, no. I had friends who owed me a favor. The ones I leave the octopus on the rocks for when we're cleaning out the skiff at night. Half a dozen bald eagles spotted me pedaling in the air at the moment the whale dove. They swooped in to pluck me up like I was a sheet ready to be hung on the line. They carried me across the sound, and before I knew it, they'd deposited me on shore and taken off again into the sky. I turned just in time to see my basket and tackle drop back into my skiff.”

“Wow,” says Eddie.

“Your grandmother came out of the cabin at that moment. She plunked her hands on her hips and looked at me in a disapproving way. ‘What are you doing standing here,' she asked, ‘when
I can see your boat out there in the water?' She picked an eagle feather from my hair.

“Well, I tried to tell her, but she wouldn't have any of it. ‘Stuff and nonsense! You expect me to believe your stories of giant snappers and friendly eagles?' She then accused me of being careless and letting my boat get away on its own.”

Eddie is laughing loudly at Granddad's imitation of Grandma. Granddad chuckles along with him so that neither of them hears the sound of the bedroom door opening.

“What on earth is going on in here?!”

Startled, they both turn.

Mom stands in the doorway. She looks enormous in her puffy bathrobe and a mass of giant curlers parked on her head. Her forehead creases in a frown. “Will you two settle down? I hope you don't plan on carrying on like this when we have houseguests. Nobody will get a wink of sleep!”