Lobster fishing was no longer like it used to be. In past times, there were hardworking fishermen who went out for the black crustaceans. Now tourists fished for lobster for a week, purely for personal enjoyment. Not to mention, they didn’t even follow the rules. They had seen a lot over so many years. They secretly used brushes to remove the visible eggs of female lobsters, so that they appeared to have been caught legally, fishing them illegally from the traps, the lobster pots of others. Some divers even dived and grabbed them directly from foreign traps. He wondered where this situation would end, especially now that there was no trace of honesty left among the lobster fishermen. Sometimes he would at least find a bottle of brandy in the lobster pot he pulled to the surface, in exchange for the unknown quantity of lobsters they had stolen from it. Some thieves certainly had a sense of honor or, at least, humor.

Frans Bengtson sighed deeply as he pulled up his traps, but his face lit up as soon as he saw that there were two large lobsters in the first one. He had a good eye for the spots where they usually gathered. Some could even be called lobster paradises. That’s where he threw his pots with very good results every year. After retrieving three pots, he realized he had gathered quite a few of these precious seafood. Still, even he couldn’t understand what was driving their prices sky-high, making them scandalous. Not that lobsters weren’t tasty—you wouldn’t call them bland—but if he could choose, he would prefer herring for his table. It was tastier and worth the money. However, the income from lobster fishing was more than welcome at this time of year.