Chapter 379: Chapter 286: Calling for Backup
They would even secretly sabotage each other’s crab traps. In short, they did everything they could to make the other’s life difficult, and things got ugly.
Rivals see red the moment they cross paths.
They were already holding in a lot of anger, and with the alcohol going to their heads, all reason was thrown to the wind.
Neither side gave a damn about the consequences. They ripped off their shirts, and bare-chested, they stormed out of the bar into the snow and started brawling without another word.
At first, only a dozen or so men were involved in the melee.
But this was Saint Paul Island during the off-season. The island was teeming with idle crewmen, outnumbering even the sea dogs sunning themselves on the beach.
The moment someone saw the fight break out, they started calling their buddies for backup. Hearing the commotion, others rushed to join in, either to get in on the action or to help their friends let off some steam.
Just like that, the number of brawlers multiplied.
Damn, the scene was a chaotic mass of bodies grappling with each other, looking like something straight out of an intense movie fight scene.
Many of the island’s residents, used to a peaceful daily life, hadn’t seen such a huge spectacle in a long time.
Their curiosity piqued, they ignored the biting wind and gathered on the roadside to watch. Some even started cheering and egging the fighters on, making the brawl even more ferocious.
Finally, the island’s Sheriff heard the commotion and rushed over to the chaotic scene.
The Sheriff, suffering a massive headache, saw no other choice but to fire a shot into the air. That finally stunned the crewmen, who were red in the face and seeing red from the fight.
However, the dozen or so men who started the brawl, including Alvin, were caught red-handed by the Sheriff. They were thrown directly into a holding cell to sober up and cool their heads.
By the time they were released from the holding cell, it was already dark outside.
A bruised and swollen Alvin limped out of the Sheriff’s office, supported by his crew.
His usual spirited demeanor was gone, replaced by a battered and wretched look. He had two black eyes, and the corner of his mouth was crooked. He’d clearly taken a serious beating.
Even so, Alvin’s explosive temper hadn’t cooled one bit. He defiantly shook his fist at the rival crew and, at the top of his lungs, started the shouting match all over again.
"Shit, Vincent! Don’t let me catch you on the Bering Sea! I’ll send you to meet God, I swear to God I will!"
The rival crewman, not to be outdone, shot back, "Limp-along Alvin! If you’ve got the balls, fight me one-on-one like a man, you clown hiding in the back of the crowd!"
Hearing this, one of the River Beach’s crewmen flared up. He jumped forward to defend Alvin, yelling at the other guy, "Fack! Picking on our disabled captain! I’ll take you on!"
But when Alvin heard that, he flew into a rage and kicked the crewman who was trying to defend him. "Get the hell away from me! You’re the f*cking cripple! Your whole family are cripples!"
Then, Alvin glared at the equally bruised and swollen crewman across from him, his eyes practically shooting fire as he dredged up their old grudge from out on the water.
"Reagan, you son of a bitch! You wrecked three of the River Beach’s crab traps in Ghost Strait! You think I didn’t know? You’re a dead man today!"
The crewman named Reagan, looking utterly defiant, immediately shot back.
"Fack! And I suppose God shot the buoys off five of my crab traps, did he?"
The two sides glared daggers at each other, neither willing to back down.
Here in the Bering Sea, fighting over crabbing grounds and sabotaging each other’s crab traps were all too common in the race to catch more crab.
After all, the crab population is finite, and everyone wanted their own boat to come back with a full haul.
So, when working at sea, as long as no one got caught in the act of sabotage, everyone pretended not to know. It was an unspoken rule as each crew quietly tried to get rich.
But if someone was found out—if it was confirmed who did the dirty deed—the wronged party could never let it slide.
According to the unwritten rules of the Bering Sea, they had every right to retaliate. They had to get even, no matter what.
In today’s fiasco, it was obvious both sides had done their fair share of screwing the other over for their own gain. And deep down, they both knew it.
There was no point in arguing any further.
Both sides had suffered losses, so neither had the upper hand.
At this impasse, Alvin frowned and muttered something in Russian.
Then, as if struck by an idea, he suddenly raised his voice, shouting a challenge to a drinking contest at the bar and adding a taunt.
"Whoever doesn’t go is a coward and a pussy!"
Alvin’s arrogant challenge struck a chord with the River Beach crew, who immediately roared their approval.
A few hot-tempered crewmen immediately ripped off their shirts, revealing bodies covered in all sorts of tattoos—ferocious animals, strange symbols—that gave them a menacing air.
They beat their chests while challenging the other crew to one-on-one drinking duels.
The white-haired Sheriff Nick leaned leisurely against the doorway of his office, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He puffed away slowly, looking like it was none of his business and he was just there for the show.
He’d been the Sheriff on Saint Paul Island for decades.
He’d seen this kind of thing far too many times—crewmen getting into massive brawls over fishing resources or other petty squabbles. He was almost used to it.
Every time the fishing season closed on the Bering Sea...
These crewmen, used to battling the wind and waves at sea, would get as touchy and impulsive as halibut in mating season.
The moment their tempers flared, they wanted to fight anyone in sight, as if brawling was the only way to release all their pent-up energy.
As long as they didn’t use weapons and stuck to their fists, he’d let them go at it.
Anyway, the winners would end up in the holding cell to sober up and cool off, and the losers, if they were injured, would be sent to the clinic. It was just another way for them to blow off steam.
Now, seeing them just shouting at each other for ages without another fight breaking out...
Sheriff Nick lost interest. He disappointedly flicked his cigarette butt to the ground, crushed it under his boot, and waved his hand impatiently.
"Get lost, all of you! Bunch of pussies. I thought I was going to see some blood. Twenty years ago, half of you would be laid out on the ground by now. Shit, this generation just gets softer and softer."
"Hey, Nick, we’re sons of the sea, not gangsters," Alvin spat unhappily. He turned to the rival crewman. "Reagan, let’s go drink. First one to puke is a son of a bitch."
"Let’s go! First one to puke is a little bitch," the other crewman shot back without missing a beat.
Just then, a cell phone suddenly rang, its ringtone cutting through the noisy atmosphere with surprising clarity.
Alvin froze for a second, then frowned and glanced down at the pocket the sound was coming from.
The pain in his arm kept him from reaching for the phone himself, so he barked at the crewman next to him.
"Fack! Get my phone! Can’t you see I’m hurt?"
The crewman quickly fumbled in Alvin’s pocket, pulled out the phone, and held it up for him.
Alvin’s impatient expression vanished the moment he saw the caller ID. His face changed instantly.
He looked as if he were facing a VIP, his expression suddenly turning serious and tense.
Forgetting the pain in his arm, he hastily snatched the phone. He held it up and hissed at the noisy crowd around him.
"Fack! Shut up, all of you! It’s the boss!"
After barking the order, he took a deep breath and quickly composed himself, arranging his features into an expression of utmost respect and humility.
Only then did he gingerly answer the call, his face instantly plastered with a fawning smile and his tone becoming remarkably meek.
"Hey, Boss. What can I do for you?"
"Okay, no problem. Everyone’s just on the island, not doing much."
"That would be a great honor for us. We’ll all be there. We have to be."
When the surrounding River Beach crewmen heard it was the boss on the phone, they all perked up, straining their ears, wishing they could hear what was being said.
"Got it. I’ll wait for your call on the island. Don’t worry, I’ll let everyone know."
Alvin said finally, his posture as he held the phone a picture of utter servility.
Compared to the explosive temper he’d shown while arguing and shouting just moments before...
...he was like a completely different person.
...
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