Last Chance Harvey-Part 3
Swimming downward, the view through the mask resembled an old photograph, brittle and sepia toned. Silt filtered through the yellow rays of the sun gave only a few feet of visibility. Thee were no schools of fish like in the Gulf, just the occasional bass or crappy snooping around the bones of long flooded pines, their tentacle like branches flowing with the wakes. Easy to get into trouble. Snag an air hose and you were done for the day, assuming you could make it back to the surface. Several had died and Jim wasn't interested in joining that group. Jerry pointed off to the left to an eerie sight. Just past a tree was a large shape poking upright in the mud, the Last Chance. The shallow draft boat listed slightly port, bow resting on a rock. The bridge and superstructure was still intact. That was easy. Maybe a little too easy. Carefully dodging a branch, they swam towards the stern. A catfish slithered out from under a rock, startled by the strange movement. The short tra...