MORNING SERIAL
GRANDFATHER was a remarkable sailor. He knew land was nearby from the smell of steaming blubber and whale oil permeating the air, and the increasing number of birds on the water, fearful of flying blind in the fog.
He made his ghostly landfall on Nantucket Island, appearing out of the mist in his small boat like some extinct sea creature, and was immediately welcomed in the town by the Algonquin whalers and residents who fed him salt cod fattened by the vast shoals of Atlantic herring and caught over the Newfoundland Banks.
The old man paused, drew a breath, sat back and looked at the boy.
He could not quite believe what he had done; told a real person the first of many stories.
CHAPTER 6
THE following Saturday the boy was there again leaning against the hull of the fishing boat. He went out to meet him.
‘Look, the paint’s peeling off the boat, it needs repainting,’ he said pointing. ‘I can do it if you like?’
He was right. It did need painting. It was remiss of him as he should have done it some time ago, but he always had other things on his mind.
There was paint in the shed, he knew that, but it meant allowing the boy in there again. That worried him. Then he remembered what Grandfather had said, that a man was worthy of his hire.
He should give the boy a chance and pay him for the job, but not today.
There were things that he had to do before he allowed the boy into the shed again, now he knew that the boy was curious about almost everything and was fascinated by the contents of the shed.
Somewhat reluctantly he agreed. ‘But not today. If you can come tomorrow, I will find what you need for the job. Sandpaper, scrapers, brushes, paint, stirrers, white spirit and anything else I can think of.’
‘I can help you do that.’ ‘No. I’m busy today. You should come tomorrow, or next week, and I will pay you.’
The Herring Man by Cyril James Morris is published by Parthian at £7.99
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