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On the crab boat, no one ever called Henry by his real name. Everyone followed Old George's lead and referred to him as "Greenie."
The name came from "Green Crew," meaning a newbie. In Henry's mind, the Chinese equivalent would be "rookie." As the saying goes in the army: the veterans give orders, the intermediates wait, and the rookies endure. No matter where you are, rookies don't get a say. It's an unwritten rule.
On the Annie II-1, Henry truly was the only one with zero crab fishing experience. Even those with the least time at sea had already followed Old George for a season. This was their second year.
A rookie had to accept their place, and Henry understood that. He really didn't know anything, and his experience was nonexistent. Of course, he couldn't just rely on super strength to force everyone into submission.
If you want comfort, go home!
That said, under Old George's leadership, there was no deliberate bullying of newcomers. Because from the day the ship set out until it reached the crab grounds in the Bering Sea, those were the only peaceful moments. What came next was a brutal, never-ending grind.
Crab boats operate nearly 21 hours a day. That doesn't mean there are three solid hours of rest. Those three hours are broken up throughout the day, and any single stretch of sleep might last barely an hour.
Work is divided into 2–3 hour shifts, with only five to ten minutes of rest in between—just enough time to eat, drink, or use the restroom. As a result, crab fishermen eat five to six meals a day.
Lunch and dinner breaks are slightly longer—twenty to thirty minutes—and offer the only opportunity for a hot meal. The rest of the time, meals consist of dry rations.
The job is both complex and dangerous. Crew members must hang bags of chopped bait inside 350-kilogram crab pots, then lower these iron cages into the sea—down to around 150 meters—to attract crabs.
But don't think you get to relax after the crab pots are dropped. The boat doesn't have just one.
The operation is continuous. As soon as one pot goes overboard, another must be retrieved. Whether or not any king crabs were caught, the pots must be rearranged, cleaned, and refitted with fresh bait.
One major part of this work is handling ice. Unlike seawater splashing over the sides, solid ice doesn't drain off. It can freeze onto the deck or onto the crab pots themselves. If left unchecked, the accumulating ice could shift the boat's center of gravity—potentially capsizing it.
So even if all the pots are in the water, no one gets to rest. Everyone grabs a hammer and gets to work smashing ice and tossing it overboard.
Lifting and lowering pots is done with a crane, but as a rookie, Henry wasn't allowed anywhere near it. He worked with the veterans near the pots—handling bait and sorting the catch.
And don't think king crabs are passive seafood just waiting to be collected. Even when hauled to the surface, they're still aggressive. With their hard shells, sharp spines, and powerful claws, just grabbing one can injure you. Gloves are essential.
Of course, Henry wouldn't be hurt by mere crabs, but he didn't go barehanded to show off his invulnerability. He wore gloves like everyone else.
In addition to nonstop hours and aggressive crabs, the biggest challenge on a crab boat is the sea itself.
The Bering Sea in October and November is basically winter. Arctic storms sweep in from the North Pole, bringing freezing temperatures around zero degrees Celsius. Sometimes it even snows.
Winds often exceed 26 kilometers per hour, raising waves up to ten meters high. Crab boats aren't large, and in such violent seas, just staying upright is a task.
Huge waves frequently crash against the boat, and careless crew can easily be swept into the ocean. Fortunately, crab boats aren't warships—if someone goes overboard, a rescue will still be attempted. But in this weather, even a rescue attempt is extremely dangerous.
The first and biggest challenge on a crab boat is seasickness. Or rather, controlling it.
If you're seasick, don't even think about working. Just try to vomit as cleanly as possible and stay out of the way.
The harsh weather, long shifts, and dangerous catch are why Alaskan crab boats face labor shortages every year.
Henry once wondered if it would be better to work less and rest more. But after experiencing the job firsthand, he didn't need to ask that question again.
There's no room for breaks—not with the ice, the waves, the constant lifting and dropping of pots. To sleep soundly on this boat, you'd need to be able to doze off on a roller coaster.
Everyone agreed: fill the boat fast and return to port even faster.
Only people who were idle and full would complain about not getting enough sleep. Work fast, go home early!
This is where an experienced captain becomes critical. Not only must they navigate rough seas and prevent capsizing, but they also need to locate the crabs.
King crabs don't show up on sonar, and their migration patterns change. Finding them depends on the captain's experience, intuition, and luck.
If luck's bad, the trip drags on, increasing risk. A competent captain could get a full load in about five days.
The Polish crewman had told Henry that trips usually take two weeks. That only happens with a bad captain.
Most people can't last two weeks. They might tough it out for a little more than a week, but if the catch is low, they'll head back anyway.
This kind of intense labor is fueled by adrenaline. If someone dies from overwork, the trip becomes a disaster.
Within just a few days, Henry had already impressed the veterans.
In an environment like this, the worst thing is a useless teammate. No one has time for drama or bullying.
Henry was still a rookie. He didn't know much and asked too many questions. But once he asked and tried something, he almost never made the same mistake twice.
The reason it's "almost" is because teamwork sometimes leads to small missteps. But if anyone shouted instructions, Henry would immediately correct himself.
Who wouldn't appreciate a crewmate like that?
As a rookie, Henry earned the lowest pay on board. No one even knew where to begin feeling jealous.
His speed of learning and work efficiency allowed him to take on tasks beyond beginner level.
By the end of the five-day trip, he had handled nearly every tool on the boat—except for the ship's wheel. And no one objected.
All of this happened in less than five days.
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