Sally looked out of the windows of her bungalow on the beach, and watched the incoming tide rushing into the mouth of the river. The sky was getting darker although it was early afternoon, and a strong wind was whipping up the waves and smashing them down again onto the pebble beach.

Sally shivered and turned away, thankful for the warm red glow of the fire. Her collie pup ‘Patch’ lay fast asleep on the sofa, oblivious to the wind and the fact that he shouldn’t be on the sofa.

Turning towards the window again Sally could see a small fishing boat heading out to sea. There was one man in the little boat dressed in yellow oilskins and souwester, he was holding the tiller with one hand and attempting to bale some water out of the boat with the other.

The little boat bobbed up and down and rolled from side to side as it battled against each wave. When it was through the mouth of the river and out into the open sea, Sally could not see it at all sometimes, for a second it would seem to be balanced on the crest of a wave and then it would be swallowed up, several times she was sure the little boat would be overturned, but it kept on battling out to sea. The further out it went, the smaller it seemed and the waves looked bigger and angrier, Sally could not see it very well now. The windows needed cleaning she thought absent-mindedly. Then her heart gave a sickening jerk and seemed to rise up in her throat, she opened the door, straining her eyes seawards as she stepped onto the veranda, the little boat had been tossed high by the waves and hadn’t something been thrown out?

The wind ruffled her hair and she shivered as a gust of cold air penetrated her thick woollen jersey. Patch, aroused from the arms of Morpheous by the call of nature, wandered out onto the veranda, stretching and yawning.

Sally, gripping the veranda rails, was still staring out to sea, the little boat was bobbing up and down but was there anyone in it, she couldn’t see. There seemed to be something else bobbing up and down in the water, was she imagining things or was it a body. No, it was a marker buoy, it must be. She looked again at the little boat being tossed about by the big waves, she could just see the head of the man sitting at the tiller, a wave of relief swept over her, the muscles of her face relaxed and her hands released their grip on the rail. She realised her heart had been thudding wildly, like the beat of a drum.

Calmer now, she watched the little boat out of sight and went indoors. The fire needed poking, she watched the glowing coals, a blue flame kept leaping out of the depths and falling back again, just like the little boat being tossed up and down by the waves, somewhere out to sea.

Some hours later, when the sky was almost black, Sally looked out of the window again, all she could see was the reassuring beam of the Light Ship cutting through the darkness of the sea and the night sky.

She went into the tiny kitchen and popped four dumplings into the stew, it smelled good, just right for a cold winter night like this she thought.

It had started to rain very hard, Sally could hear it lashing the windows and beating on the corrugated tin roof, the deafening crash of thunder shook the little bungalow. Sally felt the icy grip of fear in her heart again.

She picked up the wooden spoon to stir the stew and then put it down again, she heard footsteps on the pebbles, the door opened, a blast of cold air chilled the kitchen. Tom came in, stooped to place a damp, wet kiss on Sally’s lips and stepped into the dining room.

‘Good catch today love’ he said, Sally looked at her husband of five weeks then ruefully at the new carpet, Tom’s yellow oilskins dripped around him. ‘Good catch today love’ he said again.

Jackie S Brooks
1960