Crab fishing is dangerous work. The unpredictable and often brutal sea conditions are the primary cause of most accidents aboard crab boats. No matter how alert and experienced the crew may be, even a small wave can lead to disaster.
Old George, a seasoned captain, had been through more storms than he could count. He could handle big waves with confidence and remain vigilant for the small ones. Still, no matter how careful one is, accidents can occur in the blink of an eye—suddenly and without warning.
That's why everyone on board needs to look out for each other. The unspoken code of conduct in the Western seafaring world isn't about minding your own business and ignoring others' problems. Instead, it's understood that out on the vast ocean, all you have is each other. If you don't help your shipmates, no one else will.
Mutual support and teamwork are not just values—they are necessities.
Henry worked in this kind of environment. He was someone who always kept a low profile, hiding his true identity and powers. Despite possessing super strength and other Kryptonian abilities, he blended in with the rest of the crew. But in this kind of tight-knit setting, where life and death situations arise daily, even someone trying to stay under the radar can't help but step in when others are in danger.
And Henry did help—frequently. But he was careful. During the chaos of fishing, when everyone was too focused to notice the details, it was easy to lend a hand without anyone suspecting anything unusual. As long as he didn't do anything too extraordinary, his secret was safe.
But one incident came dangerously close to exposing him.
It happened during a routine operation. The Annie II was swaying slightly, not from a storm, but from a sudden side wave. The crew was in the middle of hauling up a crab cage—one that was particularly full. Spirits were high. The captain had found a crab-rich spot, and cage after cage came up brimming with catch. Everyone was eager to fill the hold quickly and return to port with their hard-earned pay.
Just as the cage was lifted higher than the edge of the deck, a young crew member—who had only recently shed the nickname "Greenhorn"—was guiding the tow rope to shift the heavy cage onto the deck. Then the ship lurched.
The sudden jolt shifted the center of gravity of the iron cage. One of the supporting lifting ropes snapped under the strain. The cage, heavy and off-balance, dropped and swung outward, threatening to fall back into the sea.
Worse, the young crew member had his arm caught in the tow rope. With the crab cage swinging violently, he faced two horrifying outcomes: either being thrown overboard or having his arm torn off.
At that critical moment, Henry moved.
He reached out and grabbed the wildly swinging crab cage with both hands, planting his feet against the side of the ship. He grunted and strained, pretending to struggle as he held it in place. His timing was perfect.
The young man's scream alerted the entire crew. Within seconds, they were rushing to help.
Though the young man wasn't tossed into the sea, the force of the rope pulled him hard onto the deck. Luckily, someone reacted quickly and freed his arm from the entanglement, pulling him to safety.
With the immediate danger to the young man resolved, the crew now faced another problem—what to do about the crab cage.
They had a choice: abandon it or save it.
To abandon it would mean cutting the remaining ropes and letting the cage sink. To save it would depend on whether Henry could keep holding on.
While some were preparing to cut the ropes and relieve Henry, the Kryptonian—still playing his part—gritted his teeth and shouted, "Can you guys reattach the broken lifting rope?"
"Greenhorn, hold on!" one of the veterans barked, and the others sprang into action.
Someone quickly retrieved a spare rope and hooked it to the crane. Another man, balanced dangerously over the ship's edge with two others holding his legs for support, leaned down to reconnect the broken line.
The crew were experienced. Their knot-tying skills were second nature, honed through years of work at sea. Within seconds, they had the line re-secured and shouted, "Henry, let go!"
Henry obeyed without hesitation. As he released his grip, the tension shifted to the newly repaired rope, which jerked tight, but held. The cage, though now slightly askew, was safe.
With combined effort, several crew members pulled the tow rope and finally brought the cage aboard. The crane lowered it onto the deck, and only when the heavy metal frame landed safely did everyone finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Henry played his part well. He slumped against the side of the ship, panting, shaking his arms as if sore and spent. He wore gloves, so even if his hands were uninjured, no one could tell. And he wasn't about to complain.
The young crew member who had narrowly escaped serious injury sat on the edge of the cabin, still dazed. His arm was sore but intact. He could still move it, though strained muscles told him just how close he had come to a terrible accident.
Some veterans checked on the crab cage, while others comforted the shaken rookie. Even Captain Old George left the wheelhouse and came to inspect the scene personally.
He had witnessed most of what had happened but hadn't had time to intervene before the crew had resolved the issue on their own.
He checked on the young man first and confirmed that there was no serious injury before walking over to Henry. The others had already confirmed Henry's condition, so George didn't ask questions. Instead, he simply patted him on the shoulder and said, "Good job. If it weren't for you, that kid might've made it, but he'd have lost his arm."
No one questioned how Henry had managed to hold the cage. After all, only one of the four ropes had snapped. It wasn't as if he'd supported the entire weight of the iron cage alone. A well-timed effort could make a big difference. In this line of work, occasional displays of superhuman strength weren't entirely unheard of.
Miracles happen at sea.
Old George had seen his share of close calls. To him, this was just another story to add to the list.
"Replace that broken line," he ordered. "Let's finish pulling the cages from this spot and head back to port. You two kids, you've got ten minutes to rest. Got it?"
Before either Henry or the young man could respond, another crew member chimed in, "Captain, we heading back already?"
"The hold's already eight-tenths full. We pull up a few more cages from this spot, and we're good. Head back early, get some rest. Your pay won't be cut."
"Okay, you're the boss," the man replied with a grin.
"I'm good," Henry said, stretching his arms. "No need for rest."
The other rookie said nothing. He still looked pale.
Old George shook his head. "No arguments. Ten minutes. You," he said to Henry, "go grab some whiskey from the cabin. One for you, one for that kid. He's about scared to death."
"Aye, boss," Henry said and headed inside.
No one objected to the short break for the two rookies. They knew there was no time for envy or resentment out here. If they wanted to return early and in one piece, it took everyone doing their part—no games, no politics, just hard work and trust.
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