The Fish Boats

From the Diary of Tricia Catherine Petrini

My diary:

Monday December 2, 1935

            To begin this diary, I need to say that my full name is Tricia Catherine Petrini.  I was born here in Monterey County seventeen years ago.

My grandfather Paulo Petrini is the owner of two big fishing boats, and my Papa and brother John both work for him.  All are big strongly built men and sometimes they make a great haul when the fish are running well.  But now the fish are running poor (as though to imitate the depression time we are in), even so, the fishermen are a happy lot and they have a great time poking fun at each other.

Thursday December 5, 1935

Yesterday something bad happened.  It occurred after an argument over a fishing territory.  A poacher tried to ram one of my grandfathers’ fishing boats.  Being a very alert person, my big brother John, turned their boat quickly enough to avoid a full collision and saved them.  The poacher was running at full speed and inevitably struck another smaller fishing boat broadside, tearing a hole in the midst.  It sank immediately and the three fishermen in the smaller boat nearly drowned.  The young men all knew each other well enough and most of them were true friends.  They all rushed over and drew out two of the oldest fishermen floundering in the rough sea.  But the third fisherman, the youngest of the lot had been drinking alcohol and he was raging mad.  He would have nothing to do with any of them and he refused to accept the help that was offered him from the owner of the big boat that had rammed him.

            “You caused this! You lousy bastard! No. I don’t want any help from you!  I would rather drown.  I can swim back to the shore on my own.” 

The Young man was a champion swimmer.  He had even won medals in swimming contests.  But he was also bullheaded and although the sea was raging, he was determined to try to swim back to the shore on his own.  The young man did not realize how far out they had gone.  Nor did he consider the condition he was in, drunk as a pig.  The tide was going out, and he was soon, carried away by the strong current.

            Everyone searched for the young fisherman all through the night, in the pitch -black darkness.  But even while using their running lights, they could not find him.        They had to tell the police all that had happened.  But the owner of the larger boat that had sunk that smaller craft knew quite well that, if he told the truth he would most probably lose his fishing license.  The gruff old man had always been jealous of my grandfather, and in anger, had ordered his men to ram Paulo’s boat.  So before they had gone into court, he had affixed a lie between many of the fishermen involved in the incident and himself, to blame my grandfather for everything.  Everyone knew that Paulo was aggressive towards anyone who tried to enter his immediate fishing area.  Grandfather had the experience and he knew all the best places where the streams of fish would most likely be running.

Tuesday December 10, 1935

            After their lawyers argued over the case back and forth, old Judge Bettencourt decided to end it at once.  He ruled to take away both of their licenses and added a six months jail term for the unruly liar, Captain James C. Clog.  They both lost, but for my grandfather it was the hardest since his age was against him.

 Thursday December 12, 1935

            My brother, John, has a friend Steven Longwait who owns a small fishing boat with a bon