The freezer was packed. Jam packed. Ziplock bags filled with scallops. Freshly frozen, hand harvested treasures of the deep. Granted it was a small freezer atop my aging coppertone Frigidaire, but still, it held a lot of scallops. The fruits of a long and somewhat treacherous dive in the salty depths surrounding the forbidden pilings of a Navy pier. Such delicious illicit contraband.
It had been a bit foggy in the early morning when I’d loaded my tank, fins, goggles and weight belt into the fourteen foot grey rowboat I kept moored in a secluded spot across the bay from the Navy base. The whisper-quiet slice of long slender oars pulled me smoothly across the water to within a hundred yards of the forest of pilings that sank into the sandy floor of the bay. Above them a red and white sign shouted NO TRESPASSING. US GOVERNMENT PROPERTY.
Agile as a snake I slithered over the edge of the skiff, submerged out of anyone’s view, and swam the distance to the scallop-covered poles, several feet below the surface. The sight was amazing. Hundreds of beautiful bay scallops, the prize of any seafood chef, coated the crusty posts from top to bottom. And now they would be mine! Up and down each piling I swam, prying one unsuspecting culinary treat after another from their secure locations.
Finally, having dropped more than I could carry into a large mesh bag hanging from my belt, I made my way back to the boat, dragging it behind me along the bottom of the bay. The weight of the bag was so great I could not swim to the surface, and had to pull the cord on my flotation device to make it back up to the boat. With stealth and some considerable effort the scallops and I finally made it over the gunnel and into the bottom of the skiff. Peering over the gunnel I surveyed the surface of the bay and the length of the pier. Not a soul was to be seen.
Suddenly a guard appeared at the pier’s far end, his binoculars to his eyes, staring right at me. Busted, I thought. There was nothing I could do. The guard lowered his binoculars. Even at that distance, I could recognize what seemed to be a smile. With a quick thumbs up he turned and walked away.
Later that day, after some necessary cleaning and bagging of the day’s catch I stowed my booty carefully into the freezer, save for five large beauties which were gently sautéed in butter and garlic to perfection. “Yes”, I confessed to myself with a satisfied grin on my face. “I’m guilty”.