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Back Low Country Save as PDF
Chapters (25)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. CHAPTER 1
  4. CHAPTER 2
  5. CHAPTER 3
  6. CHAPTER 4
  7. CHAPTER 5
  8. CHAPTER 6
  9. CHAPTER 7
  10. CHAPTER 8
  11. CHAPTER 9
  12. CHAPTER 10
  13. CHAPTER 11
  14. CHAPTER 12
  15. CHAPTER 13
  16. CHAPTER 14
  17. CHAPTER 15
  18. CHAPTER 16
  19. CHAPTER 17
  20. CHAPTER 18
  21. CHAPTER 19
  22. CHAPTER 20
  23. CHAPTER 21
  24. CHAPTER 22
  25. CHAPTER 23

The canaries are dying in the mine shaft. The blue crab is disappearing from these very waters, and the oysters are beginning to sicken. The dead zones off the mouths of the major rivers—areas so depleted of oxygen by runoff pollution as to no longer being capable of sustaining life—are becoming larger, more numerous, and longer lasting by the year.

Around the globe, fish stocks are crashing from overfishing. The once inexhaustible North Atlantic cod fishery—a resource that once fed millions—has been exhausted and is close to extinction. The big fish—the bluefin tuna, the swordfish, marlins, and the big sharks—are being taken in such numbers that they are now unable to reproduce and replenish themselves.

What we are doing is the equivalent of a farmer eating his seed corn and giving no thought to the next season. And it’s all being done in the name of greed—for the enrichment of the few and the paupering of many. When we finally manage to upset the balance of life in the ocean, we may well have sealed our doom.

It starts small. I doubt that the people who threw their trash on this remote and beautiful small island are bad people. More than anything, they are guilty of being lazy and unthinking. But it is that on the larger scale that allows the truly callous and venal to get away with their depredations. When we all wake up and look around and realize the consequences of what we are doing, then we will demand a change. We will hold ourselves accountable for our actions. I just hope it happens before it is too late to make a difference.

I retrieved the bags of trash, along with a few other cans and stuff I’d found, and returned to the boat. Danny Ray and Parker had not yet returned by the time I arrived back at the dock. I unloaded the boat and put my gear away, then carried the bags of trash and my shot-up targets to the Dumpster back of the Bucket o’ Blood, where I made a deposit instead of a withdrawal. This time no one caught me in the act.

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 14

BACK ABOARD THE MISS ROSALIE, I made another phone call to Sandy Willis, and this time, as before, received no answer and had to leave a voice message. I called the convenience store again, and the girl I had spoken to previously told me that no, Sandy still hadn’t come to work, and that if I spoke with her first to tell her that it was causing problems in the schedule and she needed to call Mr. Harold and let him know when she was coming in. I replied that I would relay the message and hung up.