Funicular: What Is Truth When the Past Is a Lie? by T. F. Lince

Author:T. F. Lince [Lince, T. F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781790859917
Google: I-B0xQEACAAJ
Amazon: B07L5R3CP3
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: 2018-12-06T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22 – The Magic of the Sea

Bob’s stomach was doing somersaults. The horizon was dipping in and out of vision as the swells lifted the boat up and down. As Bob turned a pale green colour, the Silent Man let out a bark of laughter.

“How are you feeling, Bob?”

Another swell lifted the boat again as Ray gestured to Bob. “The anchor, throw her over.”

Bob managed to get to the anchor, which was lodged between two pins protruding up from the gunnels. A roller sat just before where the green dodger started. He threw the anchor over the side and watched the line run out over the metal rollers, then retook his seat.

It was quiet with the engine off. The anchor took hold and the boat flicked round 180 degrees. Bob, who had been sitting on the seaward side of the boat feeling ill, could now see land, and immediately he felt a little better. The smell of diesel fumes and the old fish heads staring up at him from a basket took their toll, though.

Bob’s head flew over the side of the boat and he threw up yellow fluid.

“Get it up, DI Dixon, always nice to have ground bait. Helps the fishing.” Silent Man laughed again.

The boat was now slowly easing up and down with the swell. Bob gave the fish some more yellow bile-flavoured bait.

“You should have had strawberry jam sandwiches this morning, Bob.”

Bob’s head was on the gunnel, resting on his arms, and he raised it momentarily. “Does that stop you being sick?”

Ray laughed yet again. “No, but at least it tastes nicer on the way up.” He poured a cup of tea from a flask he had taken out of his bag and handed it to his crew member for the day. “Here, sip this. It has sugar in, should sort you out.”

“Thanks, Ray.” Bob hugged the mug like his new best friend.

“And look at the land. When you can’t see the horizon, your brain refuses to believe you are moving.”

Bob did as ordered, and to his surprise, it worked.

“So what now, Ray?” He took another slurp of his sugary tea and sat up straighter.

“We’ll do some yucking for pot bait.”

Ray handed him a rod.

“Yucking?”

“Yes, fishing with rods. That’s what we call it up here: yucking. There’s some mussels in that tub. Bait up your two bottom hooks, through the heart and the tongue. That’s through the white bit and loop back through the black bit, like this.” Ray took a mussel out of the tub and baited one of Bob’s hooks. “The bait will fly off otherwise. Got it?”

“Got it, Ray, thanks.” Now Bob was busy, he forgot all about being ill. He baited up the other hook as ordered and let his sinker take the line to the bottom.

“When you hit the bottom, take a couple of reels up and keep bouncing off the bottom. We’re after whiting or sea hens for pot bait, but you never know. We’re on the rock edge, church on tip, so we might hit the odd cod if we are lucky.

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