MORNING SERIAL
THE rusty hand-winch had seized up and when I tried to turn the handle to ease the tension on the cable attached to the boat in order to release the spring clip, it would not budge.
That meant a visit to the shed for tools and grease and an opportunity for the first time to explore inside on my own.
I collected the brass key from its hook under Grandfather’s photo where I had replaced it when I moved to the cottage.
Mother wouldn’t come as she had a job that paid enough for her to rent her own small flat and she was happy there.
I had been putting off a visit to the shed. Each time I picked up the key it seemed to me, when looking at the urn, that Father was uncomfortable with my proposed expedition.
At such times I felt that it should wait until after I had scattered his ashes in the sea, but I couldn’t do that until I got the boat into the water.
In the end I came to the conclusion that the answer was to get what I needed for the winch without exploring any further.
I think that Father approved as I felt no more discomfort when I looked at his urn.
It only took me a few days to de-rust, oil and grease the winch back into action but I had to wait another week for the spring tides that lapped the slipway before I could launch.
That week after three outings I became reasonably proficient at launching, rowing, handling and recovering the boat.
I discovered that there cannot be anything as magical as rowing a boat on a silent moonlit night. The sparkling phosphorescence as the oar dips into the water, the creak of the leather padding between the oar and rowlock, and the splash of a nearby fish startled by this silent, surface intrusion. I knew that I was now ready to carry out Father’s last wishes.
The next set of evening high spring tides were the obvious time to carry out those wishes and scatter his ashes in the bay.
I rowed out as the sun set, but where to? Father had not said exactly where.
I thought about what the solicitor said about it in the will and something struck me as odd.
> The Herring Man by Cyril James Morris is published by Parthian at £7.99
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