by the low tide. Occasionally, preying gulls swooped down at them, and they were forced to dart away or be devoured. Invariably, undeterred from their purpose, they returned mere seconds later. The warrior in John recognized the tenacity of these tiny creatures, and he suddenly felt different than he had in a long, long time.
He remained at the window, drinking in the scene as if seeing it for the first time, until his mother tapped on his door to tell him that his breakfast was ready. In that brief space of time he had come to the decision that he was finally ready to get on with the rest of his life, come what may. Furthermore, he was going to work. He was going to be a fisherman. He went down to the kitchen and retrieved his artificial leg from the wood-box and strapped it on. For the first time, the sight of it did not revolt him or cause him pain.
He told nobody about his plans, but when he finally came out of his room and ventured out into the settlement, his parents, friends, and relatives rejoiced in the fact that he was at last on the road to recovery. Over the next two weeks he acquired a small boat and enough fishing gear to make a start, and when he had done so, he rowed out through the narrows one misty morning to the fishing grounds that lay beyond, telling no one where he was going. He stayed out there all that day, and when he returned, fifteen codfish lay on the floorboards of his boat. Not much of a yield for a full dayâs work, but it was a start. Spent and sore from rowing after his long period of inactivity, he was satisfied that things would get better.
The ensuing weeks saw him on the fishing grounds every morning except Sunday, holding his own and gradually regaining the strength and stamina that had slipped away. Foul weather did not deter him. He watched what the other fishermen of the settlement did and if any of them ventured out in less than ideal conditions, he did too, and in that way learned how to gauge the weather and the tides for himself and to make his own decisions.
Everything went smoothly until he got caught in an unexpected summer squall and was forced to make a dash for shore. The moment the tempest erupted he grasped the gravity of his situation and immediately began to row toward the nearest point of land, his jib sail being of no use to him because the wind was blowing offshore directly toward him. The fury of the sudden storm intensified as he rowed, and he made little or no headway against the force of the wind. He feared being capsized or blown out to sea. He strove doggedly on until he was on the verge of utter collapse, and then he felt the miraculous crunch of gravel beneath the keel of his boat. He had come ashore almost three miles south of his intended port and had to wait there until the squall abated and he recovered enough strength to row home.
He was shaken by the experience, and for the first time was forced to acknowledge his vulnerability out there alone on the open water. While he was quite capable of rowing out to the fishing grounds and back home again in normal weather conditions, or even rough water, he realized that his one leg was not enough to enable him to balance his body properly for the extra leverage and power that was needed to see him safely home in conditions similar to what he had just experienced. He concluded that he needed a partner.
As he pondered the idea, he thought that it might also be nice to have someone in the boat with whom he could share the long lonely hours â someone he could tolerate for long periods of time and who could put up with him in return. He knew who he wanted, one of his old war buddies.
Cecil was his man. Even though he and Cecil hadnât seen much of each other since returning home, he knew enough from their war experiences to assure himself that Cecil was someone he could rely on and trust in any situation.
When he broached the matter with him, however, Cecil laughed and thought he was joking.
He remained at the window, drinking in the scene as if seeing it for the first time, until his mother tapped on his door to tell him that his breakfast was ready. In that brief space of time he had come to the decision that he was finally ready to get on with the rest of his life, come what may. Furthermore, he was going to work. He was going to be a fisherman. He went down to the kitchen and retrieved his artificial leg from the wood-box and strapped it on. For the first time, the sight of it did not revolt him or cause him pain.
He told nobody about his plans, but when he finally came out of his room and ventured out into the settlement, his parents, friends, and relatives rejoiced in the fact that he was at last on the road to recovery. Over the next two weeks he acquired a small boat and enough fishing gear to make a start, and when he had done so, he rowed out through the narrows one misty morning to the fishing grounds that lay beyond, telling no one where he was going. He stayed out there all that day, and when he returned, fifteen codfish lay on the floorboards of his boat. Not much of a yield for a full dayâs work, but it was a start. Spent and sore from rowing after his long period of inactivity, he was satisfied that things would get better.
The ensuing weeks saw him on the fishing grounds every morning except Sunday, holding his own and gradually regaining the strength and stamina that had slipped away. Foul weather did not deter him. He watched what the other fishermen of the settlement did and if any of them ventured out in less than ideal conditions, he did too, and in that way learned how to gauge the weather and the tides for himself and to make his own decisions.
Everything went smoothly until he got caught in an unexpected summer squall and was forced to make a dash for shore. The moment the tempest erupted he grasped the gravity of his situation and immediately began to row toward the nearest point of land, his jib sail being of no use to him because the wind was blowing offshore directly toward him. The fury of the sudden storm intensified as he rowed, and he made little or no headway against the force of the wind. He feared being capsized or blown out to sea. He strove doggedly on until he was on the verge of utter collapse, and then he felt the miraculous crunch of gravel beneath the keel of his boat. He had come ashore almost three miles south of his intended port and had to wait there until the squall abated and he recovered enough strength to row home.
He was shaken by the experience, and for the first time was forced to acknowledge his vulnerability out there alone on the open water. While he was quite capable of rowing out to the fishing grounds and back home again in normal weather conditions, or even rough water, he realized that his one leg was not enough to enable him to balance his body properly for the extra leverage and power that was needed to see him safely home in conditions similar to what he had just experienced. He concluded that he needed a partner.
As he pondered the idea, he thought that it might also be nice to have someone in the boat with whom he could share the long lonely hours â someone he could tolerate for long periods of time and who could put up with him in return. He knew who he wanted, one of his old war buddies.
Cecil was his man. Even though he and Cecil hadnât seen much of each other since returning home, he knew enough from their war experiences to assure himself that Cecil was someone he could rely on and trust in any situation.
When he broached the matter with him, however, Cecil laughed and thought he was joking.
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