Interview

Although the nameless little town also had a dock, most of the vessels moored there were small cargo steamers. The dock where crab boats departed was in a larger, livelier port town south of it.

The two towns were hardly the sort that never interacted with each other. So when Henry wanted to join a crab boat, the old men in town helped him contact a seasoned captain.

Old John even drove Henry there himself.

The old man from town who had contacted the captain sat in the passenger seat. Everyone called him Polack. Henry sat in the truck bed, wrapped in his coat and leisurely basking in the October sun.

Although October was merely autumn in lower latitudes, Alaska was already bitterly cold enough to pierce the bones. Unable to squeeze into the cab and forced to sit in the truck bed, Henry had been more than happy to get a spot where he could soak up the sunlight.

Though he suspected he might be a Kryptonian, Henry did not run off to sunbathe every chance he got. That would have been far too conspicuous.

Besides, his current level of strength was already enough for everyday life. Even if he soaked up enough sunlight to move mountains and fill seas, where would he find mountains to move or seas to fill?

Thanos snapping his fingers was something that would happen about thirty years later. It was only 1990 now, so there was no need to worry about troubles that far away.

Still, whenever he had the chance, Henry thoroughly enjoyed basking in the sun, just like he was doing now.

And according to Old John, when Henry had collapsed on the beach, Old John had used this very truck to bring him back. He had been tossed into the truck bed then too, so this was a nostalgic return to old times.

As for the southern town everyone called very close, Old John had sped along at seventy or eighty kilometers per hour for more than three full hours before they finally reached their destination.

That gave Henry a proper understanding of just how close Alaskans considered "very close." It was probably the sort of close only a brachiosaurus's neural reflex arc could appreciate.

Alaska's crab season fell in October and November every year, when king crabs were at their fattest and most delicious.

Every year, hundreds of crab boats departed from regions all across Alaska to catch king crab in the Bering Sea during early winter.

As a delicacy on the dinner table, king crab, with its mere two-month fishing season, produced nearly five hundred million dollars in value.

This was not only a pillar industry of Alaska; many businesses and communities were tied to it, especially the crab fishermen.

Quite a few people earned enough in those two months alone to live carefree for the remaining ten.

But because the working environment was so harsh and the job itself so dangerous, fishermen and fishing boats failed to return every year. Captains and boat owners recruited hands every year, and there was never a year without a labor shortage.

Even so, not just anyone could get aboard a boat led by an experienced captain.

Everyone making a living here knew which captains were capable and which ones could only bluff outsiders, needing to offer higher wages to hire locals.

No captain truly dared to save money by taking a whole boatload of useless rookies out to catch crab.

Unless he planned for the entire boat not to return and intended to scam the insurance company. Usually, if the insurer discovered that, it would refuse to pay.

Besides, boats with too many newcomers truly could not match the fishing efficiency of boats packed with veterans.

Not wanting to earn money only to have no life left to spend it, most people still chose crab boats led by reliable captains and filled with experienced hands.

Old John and the others had contacted just such a boat for Henry.

The Annie 21. Its owner was also its captain, George Jefferson III. Anyone who did not know better might have thought two United States presidents had fused into one.

Old George was a traditional crab fisherman. He had inherited his father's and grandfather's fishing boat and business, fighting on the front lines of this trade since childhood. So he was not only experienced, but also exceptionally good at leading people.

If any family had a child who wanted to enter this line of work, they would send him on a trip with Old George. As long as the old captain nodded, a rookie would immediately become a veteran, welcomed aboard any boat.

If a family's child merely wanted to make quick money and only go out once or twice, he should still board Old George's boat. At the very least, he would return safe and sound, in one piece.

But no one should think just anybody could board Old George's boat. Unlike other boats struggling to recruit, where anyone with hands could get on, Old George's boat was in demand, so as captain, he had the right to be selective.

That was why Old John and the others had brought Henry here before crab season began: for Old George to interview him. If it did not work out, they would seek out another veteran captain's boat.

With crab season close at hand, plenty of people at the dock were busy working on the crab boats, carrying out repairs and maintenance or replenishing supplies for going to sea.

Old George was aboard his own boat, leading his men as he personally inspected every piece of equipment.

Polack, who had brought Old John and Henry over, had once been a member of the Annie 21 and worked as a crab fisherman for a time. So upon seeing the boat, he skillfully climbed onto the deck and found Old George, who was working in the cabin.

"Hey, old bastard, I told you I was bringing a young man over. You didn't forget, did you?"

"Let me see him, you Polack." After stepping out of the cabin, Old George wiped the grease from his hands and hugged the visitor, looking very close with him.

The old captain was bare-chested and powerfully built. Though he did not have the sharply defined muscles of a bodybuilder, neither did he have flabby fat or a beer belly.

His Mediterranean bald head and the stubble on his face were both white, making it clear that the old captain was getting on in years and was no young lad.

When he saw Old John following behind, he walked over, shook his hand, and greeted him. "Hey, old bastard, there isn't a bar on my boat. Get your ass back and wait for me to come drink at your place if you want a chance to earn my money. Otherwise, no chance."

"Polack didn't tell me that you poor bastard had gone blind and couldn't see the living man beside me. Or can your eyes see nothing but crabs? If so, I'll have to pay your wife a visit tonight."

"Haha, old bastard, your mouth is still as foul as ever. There's a reason your bar's about to go under."

"It looked like a dead place thirty years ago, and it'll look the same thirty years from now," Old John shot back.

Old George raised both hands and stepped back in a mock surrender, only then noticing the only young man present. "Little Green, what's your name?"

"Henry, sir."

"Henry what?"

"Just Henry. I haven't decided what surname I want to use yet."

"Ha." Old George laughed and did not press for details.

He circled Henry once, then gave his shoulder a heavy pat. As expected, Henry did not move at all. It felt as though he had slapped a rock.

"Not bad, Little Green," Old George praised.

Then he said to the two old men, "I agree to let him come aboard."

He then told Henry, "But working on a crab boat is hard. You'd better prepare yourself mentally. Once the boat leaves port, there will be no room for regret."

Old John added from the side, "I should warn you too: this kid can really eat. Don't let it end with you telling him to cook crabs for himself on the boat."

"Ha! As long as you don't get seasick and throw up after eating, I guarantee you'll be stuffed twenty-four hours a day."