The Hunter's Pursuit

3. The Fish Hunter

The ship lurched forward as wind filled her sails. Jacob grinned, tightening his fist around a rope to brace himself. Cool water misted his face and left his sunkissed skin dusted with salt residue.

"We're almost to the nets!" The Captain shouted from the helm. "I want my harpooners ready. Master Lockard reported a swarm of razorback sharks nearby."

An elbow caught Jacob in the side. He turned to see a familiar face sprinting by. "That's us, Jake," Bran Gillans hollered, amusement shining in his amber eyes. Jacob shook his head and chased after the man, grabbing a harpoon as he ran past the rack.

Several other harpooners had already lined the sides of the ship, while a few more balanced on platforms that extended from the ship's hull just above the surface of the water. Jacob swung over the side of the ship and hit the platform. Bran handed him a safety line, which he clipped to the back of his belt.

"Razor sharks," someone muttered. "Pesky things. Always stealing our catch."

"Sharks gotta eat too," Jacob pointed out. "Our catches make an easy meal for them."

"And their spines make a mess of our nets," Bran grumbled. "I'm not looking forward to mending them again." They all closed their mouths as water sprayed once more. As soon as the waves smoothed, Bran shook out his dark curly head and resumed complaining. "Last time it took us a week to fix all of the nets."

"It wouldn't have taken so long if everyone had shown up to help when they were supposed to," another man griped.

"Shut your traps or I'll shut them for you!" A deep voice thundered overhead. Jacob looked up just as the Quartermaster hit the platform next to him. Aladar hooked a safety line to his belt, then let himself hang off the very edge of the platform.

"Eyes on the water, Boys," the man ordered. "Razorbacks are already visible. We'll shove them off the nets while the others get the catch on board. And try not to kill the damned things. Governor Talay decided they're a species worth her protection."

"What does a Governor know about razorbacks?" Bran scoffed.

Jacob cuffed him upside the head. "More than you. Razorback sharks are hunted for their spines. The whole species is nigh extinct."

"Thank you, Carne. Now shut the hell up," Aladar barked. Jacob gave a curt nod and fixed his blue eyes on the waterline.

Up ahead, several orange buoys bobbed upon the waves. Jacob could just make out the net lines beneath the water. And thrashing through the water around them were a dozen razorback sharks. The poisonous razor-sharp spines on their backs, the origin of their name, sliced through the surface of the water. A few splotches of red lurked beneath the waves, but were quickly disrupted by the sharks' movements.

"Hook and lines!" The Captain ordered from the main deck. Jacob watched as several thick ropes came sailing over the side of the ship. The hooks fastened to them snagged on the eyes attached to the buoys. "Heave!"

Ropes creaked as the nets were hoisted out of the water. They bulged with an assortment of slithering fish. Water cascaded from the nets and splashed down into the sea, sending waves rocking back into the ship. Jacob wiped water from his eyes and turned his gaze back to the sharks. They were still swarming, but none had latched onto the nets yet.

"Ugly bastards, aren't they?" Someone remarked.

Jacob clenched his jaw at that, then breathed a slow sigh. It wasn't fair to expect a regular fisherman to have the same appreciation for the creatures of the deep that he did. After all, the fishermen had never seen razorback sharks up close. They'd never observed them in a natural setting.