Reincarnated as a Fisherman and a Dad Chapter 72
'I earned 85,000 pesos today, nice.' Karlos thought to himself with a satisfied grin, his rough hands still smelling faintly of fish.
Even though the price of King Salmon went down, Karlos' earnings didn't decrease. Instead, they steadily climbed higher. There were even times when he earned more than 100,000 pesos per sail.
His decision to spend more time fishing for salmon and setting more traps around the island was the right move. He grinned as he read the receipt. He sold the lobsters to a buyer while he sold the salmon to the factory.
While he was grinning, he saw a man carrying baskets of salmon, gritting his teeth. The man had short yellow hair and crossed eyes. He seemed like an average guy, but that feature stood out.
"Hey, Brandon, how's your day?"
Karlos approached him, his voice friendly and warm. Brandon put down the two baskets and wiped his face, sweat mixing with salty water as he exhaled tiredly.
"I'm doing alright, but definitely not that great. Davis lost his boat, and I can't find another employer. No one's looking for boat workers anymore... Even if someone does, they don't want someone like me." Brandon sighed, his shoulders drooping.
His life this month had been tough. He had faced discrimination because of his crossed eyes, and it affected him badly. Now, he didn't have a choice but to work as a porter. Even then, he couldn't earn decent money because only a few people trusted him to carry their fish. He was frustrated. His calloused hands clenched briefly before he sighed again, defeated.
If he had realized this would be his future, he would've tried to finish high school. At least then he could've applied to factories with a diploma. But the reason he didn't pursue education was because of the constant bullying from his classmates.
"What about you? I rarely see you in our neighborhood. I saw your land and construction workers building a house there. I thought you sold your land or something. If not for Andres, who told me the story, I wouldn't have known you were building a concrete house. Man, lucky for you."
"I got lucky," Karlos replied modestly, though his eyes showed a flicker of pride.
"I know, almost everyone in the neighborhood heard about that."
"Anyway, I have something to talk to you about. You told me that you have a longline fishing gear in your house back when we drank last time."
"Yeah, it's a 200-meter longline with 100 hooks. You're going longline fishing? But you need at least two people to set that up." Brandon was surprised since Karlos' boat was only five meters long, not suitable for longline fishing. He tried to imagine how a single person could manage that on a small boat.
"That's why I'm thinking of hiring you for a month. How about it?"
"Huh?" Brandon was surprised, his crossed eyes widening slightly, unsure if he heard correctly.
"I'll pay you 500 pesos plus 5% profit."
"You're going to give me a share of the profit?"
"Just like you said, doing longline fishing needs at least two people to work properly. Although I can only hire you while salmon season is ongoing."
To make things fair, Karlos decided to give Brandon a 5% share of his daily earnings. He wasn't sure how hiring workers usually went, but he decided to do it anyway. If longline fishing worked, then they'd earn more, a win-win situation for both.
'To encourage someone and make them work hard, you have to give them enough reason to do so.' He thought as the faint sound of seagulls echoed above the bustling port.
"... I'm in." Brandon didn't hesitate. His lips curled into a small, hopeful smile, something he hadn't worn in weeks.
What Karlos didn't know was that Brandon's earnings as a porter were only a meager 400 pesos. As for his last job under Davis, he earned 700 pesos per day, though he had to bring his own food. He also didn't have a profit share.
In this case, Brandon felt like working with Karlos was far better than being a porter. At least he could earn more, the job was less exhausting, and most importantly, he'd finally feel trusted again.
"Bring your longline to the beach tomorrow around 3:00 a.m. Also, here, buy sardines as bait. I'll meet you around that time."
Karlos gave Brandon 150 pesos to buy sardines as bait for salmon. He'd heard that salmon liked sardines.
"Alright, I'll take care of it. I'll wash the longline and set it up."
Setting up 200 meters of line was time-consuming, so Brandon would probably have to return home early. His mind was already planning how to detangle the hooks before sunset.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
Karlos bid farewell and left the fish port with his small bangka, its wooden hull creaking gently as it bobbed on the waves.
"I will," Brandon muttered softly, more to himself, watching Karlos fade into the horizon.
After Brandon delivered the baskets to his client's truck, he decided to stop for the day. His arms ached, but for the first time, his heart felt light.
'Karlos decided to trust me, and I don't want to break his trust.' He thought with quiet determination.
There was a reason boat owners didn't hire Brandon, they couldn't trust him based on his appearance, his crossed eyes to be exact. For people working in the middle of the sea, it was dangerous if one of them had ulterior motives. The sea had no witnesses, only waves to swallow both the guilty and the innocent. There had been cases where workers on fishing vessels killed each other over petty issues.
The boat owners didn't want to compromise their safety by hiring someone they couldn't trust.
But Karlos decided to trust Brandon, and that single gesture of faith felt like a lifeline. Karlos was confident in reading people, and he had known Brandon for years.
Brandon found a fisherman selling four kilograms of sardines for 150 pesos. He even asked for a receipt just to make things clear, a small but proud act of responsibility.
He returned home holding a plastic bag of sardines covered in crushed ice, cold droplets running down as he carried it carefully. He placed it inside a styrofoam box to maintain its freshness.
"Pa, where's our longline?"
Brandon asked his father, an old man in his sixties with gray hair and brown skin.
"Why are you looking for it?" The old man raised an eyebrow, his tone curious but not harsh.
"I was hired by my friend to do longline fishing with him."
"Who is it?"
"It's Karlos, my friend."
"Karlos? You mean the guy who caught Bluefin Tuna?" The father's eyes widened slightly.
The story was well-known in their neighborhood. Every fisherman admired that catch.
"Yes. Anyway, where's the longline? I have to set it up."
"It's under the sink, the line got tangled. I'll help you untangle it." He walked toward the corner of the house.
Brandon's father was a retired fisherman. He had three children, and Brandon was the only one who hadn't married. Brandon had lived in their house his whole life.
"I haven't seen Mama around?"
"She's probably gossiping with the neighbors. You know how much she loves gossip." The old man chuckled, shaking his head as Brandon laughed in return.