Lost at Sea
The Atlantic
|June 2025
ON MY FIRST TIME OUT AS A COMMERCIAL FISHERMAN, MY SHIP SANK, MY CAPTAIN DIED, AND I WAS LEFT ADRIFT AND ALONE IN THE PACIFIC.
The Evening was small in the shadow of the other boats. When I arrived at the dock, it was well past midnight, and a misty rain was falling the edge of a storm far out at sea. Mick, the captain, was blunt and salty; not old, but weathered. He led me on board and pointed down the ladder to the hull, where I immediately got into bed and fell asleep. When I woke up, Mick had gone into town, and I began to look around in the mute light of the overcast morning.
Our plan that October was to fish for albacore off the coast of Washington State. These would be short trips-four or five days at a time to train me up for the summer, when I'd join Mick for a real voyage. I'd taken a Coast Guard course at a community college and had my Merchant Mariner certificate, but I'd never worked on a fishing boat before. In the daylight, the Evening looked ramshackle, as if it had survived 80 years in the northern Pacific more by luck than design. I found a few photos of Mick's family, and the Evening's Coast Guard certificate. "Constructed 1941, 43 feet, commercial (uninspected)." On deck, fishing lines were tangled with seaweed. Scattered everywhere were about a dozen rubber doormats stamped with the words THANKFUL, GRATEFUL, AND BLESSED. On a workbench stood a statue of the Virgin Mary.
We spent a few days waiting for the weather to clear. Mick did paperwork and chores and I tidied the boat. One day we took the catch he had stored in the hold's briny ice to a cannery on a spit of land between the ocean and Grays Harbor. Water from the Chehalis River flowed into the harbor, forming a standing wave where the two bodies met. I watched a ship leaving the harbor.
When it crossed the river bar, it pitched and rolled. Mick and I would be taking the same route in a few days, but the Evening was half the size of that ship, old, and made of wood. The wave looked large enough to swallow us.
This story is from the June 2025 edition of The Atlantic.
Subscribe to Magzter GOLD to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 10,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
MORE STORIES FROM The Atlantic
The Atlantic
You Had to Be There
An emerging field of history asks if we can ever really understand how our forebears experienced love, anger, fear, and sorrow.
23 mins
January 2026
The Atlantic
By the Horns
The week before the biggest bullfight of her career, in Cádiz, Spain, this past July, 24-year-old Miriam Cabas posted a carefully produced video on Instagram.
1 mins
January 2026
The Atlantic
The New German War Machine
After World War II, Germany embraced pacifism as a form of atonement. Now the country is arming itself again.
18 mins
January 2026
The Atlantic
The Eloquence
The prime minister was watching a disaster movie when we found him.
4 mins
January 2026
The Atlantic
What's for Dinner, Mom?
The women who want to change the way America eats
12 mins
January 2026
The Atlantic
How Terror Works
A 1947 German novel explores the sometimes corrosive, sometimes energizing nature of fear.
8 mins
January 2026
The Atlantic
Yesterday's Idea of a Modern Man
Sam Shepard, a self-made cowboy, was also a poet of masculine angst.
7 mins
January 2026
The Atlantic
ACCOMMODATION NATION
America's colleges have an extra-time-on-tests problem.
11 mins
January 2026
The Atlantic
Respect the Drummer
A new history of rock, told through its overlooked heroes
5 mins
January 2026
The Atlantic
THE MOST POWERFUL MAN IN SCIENCE
WHY IS ROBERT F. KENNEDY JR. SO CONVINCED HE'S RIGHT?
42 mins
January 2026
Listen
Translate
Change font size

