Carl.-Voyages of the Vicky Mary.

Carl worked on my clam dredge the Vicky Mary. During one crabbing season I let him work my crab boat. Carl would get the crab boat ready. It took him an hour or so to arrange gas cans, crab bait, boxes and other crabbing tools of the trade. When he got things just right he would start over, re-re-arrange things. I think Carl had OCD maybe. I yell at him "Hey Carl go get the crabs". So Carl would go. steady rearranging on the way out and back.

On day working the clam dredge we are in a rich clam bed, the clams coming up the conveyor by the hundreds. Carl stops working, sits down starts eating his lunch. I say "Hey Carl what the hell you doing?" He say "I gotta eat, I am getting weak." Carl could be really aggravating.

One day we were clearing up brush for his dad "Buck." I am wearing leather gloves. I see something down in the brush hitting against my gloved hand. On closer inspection I see it is a copperhead snake. I jerk my hand up oughta the brush. "Hold on a minute Ed" Carl says. He runs to his camper where he lives, comes running back with a big Smith and Weston-blows the snake's head off. I am a bit surprised as Carl is such a gentle person.

Carl left us-went back up to his home in Virginia. I see his father Buck now and then. Carl has grown a beard, gotten married. He and his wife are co-managers of a twenty four hour store. One night a couple a fellows come in try to rob Carl. Carl goes for his S&W but not fast enough. The first bullet got Carl in the chest, the second one in the forehead.

It just ain't fair. Carl should not have died like that.

I love your stories <smile>