“We waited about 45 minutes too long, Tyrone,” says Warren Duplesis, the captain of the small flat-bottomed boat we’re riding in, as he eyes the approaching dark gray line on the horizon. After oyster fishing most of the day, the boat is heavy with our catch. The two deckhands pull up the dredge and made sure the bilge motor is working. It isn’t a question of whether we’re going to take on water but of keeping the boat—and its valuable cargo—afloat.

We’re in No Man’s Land, an area between bay Adams and the gulf, about 60 miles southeast of New Orleans. The trip back to the Empire marina was now going to take much longer than the 20-minute trip out that