The cold salt water hit the rail of the boat deck and sprayed Mack Morrison across the face. His vision temporarily blinded, he let the goosebumps go up his back beneath his rain gear. His orange overalls disappeared the under his orange jacket protecting him from the water, while his many clothing layers insulated him from the freezing cold. It was another night in the cold crab fishing waters of Alaska, the sky was dark, and wind howled.

The storm they were fishing in wasn’t terrible, but conditions weren’t ideal. This was the Bering Sea, after all, and it never made it easy on the fleet.

All around him four men bustled in the strong wind; Mack threw a large, four-hooked chunk of metal out toward two buoys connected by rope. In the water, the hook splashed between the yellow buoys and caught the rope. Mack pulled the rope up to the side of the boat and hooked it up to a hydraulic crane.

The crane operator who donned the same orange attire, used the crane to hoist up a large metal cage called the ‘pot’. Inside the pot was stuffed with Alaskan crab, and a few ‘riders’ clung to the side of the cage. Two men guided the pot onto the boat, and the crew began to empty the crab into a sorting table.

Up above was the ‘wheelhouse’ of the crab fishing vessel Eagle’s Take. Mack looked up for a moment and signaled to the captain in the control room of the ship. With his hands and fingers, he motioned the number ninety-four.

“Ninety-four in that pot?” a deep voice over an intercom system asked.

Mack responded with a large thumbs-up gesture and went back to about his business on the deck. The boat pitched and rolled with the 10-foot swells and the men used their strong legs and core muscles instinctively. A normal person would fall easily in these conditions, especially considering the slick deck floor constantly being splashed with sea water.

Next to Mack stood a scrawny, warmly dressed man with a HD video camera in his hands. He was a Deadliest Catch producer for Discovery Channel. He had been their assigned producer this season, occasionally asking questions and always recording. The first week at sea had been difficult for the producer but he had found his sea legs well enough. Now he was becoming a de facto crew member.

One of the deckhands tapped Mack on the shoulder and pointed his attention across the dark sky to the southeast. Mack squinted and noticed it too; the bright lights of a Coast Guard MH-60 Jayhawk helicopter. But that was only sent out in case of medical emergencies, but as far as Mack knew everyone on the boat was fine. An ocean wave hit the side of the boat and doused Mack again.

“Mack,” came the deep voice of the captain over the intercom. “I don’t know why but there is a Coast Guard helicopter coming here, and they’re asking for you.”

Mack was more than confused but the helicopter was nearly to the boat. By now all the men on deck had stopped whatever they were doing and watch the helicopter approach. Finally, above them, the helicopter swayed left and right in the stiff winds of the Bering Sea storm.

“Mack,” the voice of the captain boomed as he tried to speak over the chopping hum of the helicopter. “They’re hoisting someone down in a basket but won’t say anything else. Only that they are here for you.”

Even in the best of conditions hoisting passengers up and down from a helicopter was dangerous. In these stormy conditions it had the potential for catastrophe, but sure enough, a basket began to descend from the Coast Guard helicopter. The basket was no match for the wind and drifted the width of the entire boat making a difficult landing for the helicopter pilot.

Finally, with precision and skill, the helicopter pilot successfully held position long enough for the basket to touch down to the deck floor. A man wearing an official Coast Guard survival suit was helped by the crew.

“I’m looking for Mack Morrison!” shouted the man, who seemed surprisingly calm for the elements he was now in. He was only yelling to make sure he was heard well.

Mack raised his arm silently and the man turned his attention directly at him.

“Mack!” the man shouted. “I’m Parker Meloche! I have an opportunity for you!”

Mack stared at him curiously.

“When you hit the dock at Dutch Harbor this May,” Parker started. “I want you to contact me immediately! I know of your past and think you still have a future!”

Mack’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and the bottom of his beard scrapped the collar of the jacket, but he didn’t respond.

“When you wrap up Opilio season in May, I want you to contact me!”

Parker pulled a plastic-wrapped enveloped from a pocket on his survival suit and handed it to Mack.

“Everything you need to know is in there! I hope to hear from you!”

With that, Parker Meloche climbed back into the basket and signaled thumbs up to the helicopter. A helicopter crew member threw a thumbs up back down and the basket began to ascend. Mack watched as the basket violently twisted in the wind and dangerously pulled the helicopter to and fro.

Mack was sure the basket would pull the whole helicopter into the ocean but finally the helicopter retrieved the basket and immediately began its flight back to Dutch Harbor. Mack looked down at the plastic wrapped envelope and clenched his free hand.

The ocean swells of the Bering Sea continued to pitch the boat, but the real tempest swirled inside the crab fisherman. It seemed his skills were needed once again.