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It was beginning to get light when Ken knocked on the door of Fred’s bach.

Are you up? he said.

Fred called out that he was, and in a moment he opened the door.

Just finished my breakfast, he said. We’d better get moving.

It didn’t take long. The bach was right on the edge of the beach, and they got the dinghy on to Ken’s back and he carried it down the beach, and Fred followed with the gear. Ken was big enough to make light work of the dinghy but it was all Fred could do to manage the gear. There wasn’t much of him and he goddamned the gear every few yards he went.

The tide was well over half-way out, and the sea was absolutely flat without even a ripple breaking on the sand. Except for some seagulls that walked on the sand and made broad-arrow marks where they walked there wasn’t a single thing moving. It was so still it wasn’t natural. Except for the seagulls you’d have thought the world had died in the night.
Ken eased the dinghy off his shoulders and turned it the right way up, and Fred dropped the anchor and the oars on the sand, and heaved the sugar bag of fishing gear into the dinghy.

I wouldn’t mind if I was a big hefty bloke like you, he said.

Well, Ken didn’t say anything to that. He sat on the stem of the dinghy and rolled himself a cigarette, and Fred got busy and fixed the oars and rowlocks and tied on the anchor.

Come on, he said, we’ll shove off. And with his trousers rolled up he went and tugged at the bow, and with Ken shoving at the stem the dinghy began to float, so Fred hopped in and took the oars, and then Ken hopped in and they were off.

It’s going to be a great day, Fred said.

It certainly looked like it. The sun was coming up behind the island they were heading for, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

We’ll make for the same place as last time, Fred said.

You tell me if I don’t keep straight. And for a time he rowed hard without sending the dinghy along very fast. The trouble was his short legs, he couldn’t get them properly braced against the stem seat. And Ken, busy rolling a supply of cigarettes, didn’t watch out where he was going, so when Fred took a look ahead he was heading for the wrong end of the island.

Hey, he said, you take a turn and I’ll tell you where to head for.

So they changed places and Ken pulled wonderfully well. For a time it was more a mental shock you got with each jerk of the dinghy. You realised how strong he was. He had only a shirt and a pair of shorts on, and his big body, hard with muscle, must have been over six feet long.

Gee, I wish I had your body, Fred said. It’s no wonder the girls chase you. But look at the sort of joker I am.

Well, he wasn’t much to look at. There was so little of him. And the old clothes he wore had belonged to someone considerably bigger than he was. And he had on an old hat that came down too far, and would have come down further if it hadn’t bent his ears over and sat on them as if they were brackets.

How about a smoke? Fred said.

Sure. Sorry.

And to save him from leaving off rowing Fred reached over and took the tin out of his shirt pocket.

That’s the curse of this sustenance, Fred said. A man’s liable to be out of smokes before pay-day.

Yes, I suppose he is, Ken said.

It’s rotten being out of work, Fred said. Thank the Lord I’ve got this dinghy. D’you know last year I made over thirty pounds out of fishing?
And how’ve you done this year?

Not so good. You’re the first bloke I’ve had go out with me this year that hasn’t wanted me to go shares. Gee, you’re lucky to be able to go fishing for fun.

It’s about time I landed a position, Ken said. I’ve had over a month’s holiday.

Yes I know. But you’ve got money saved up, and it doesn’t cost you anything to live when you can live with your auntie. How’d you like to live in that damn bach of mine and pay five bob a week rent? And another thing, you’ve got education.

It doesn’t count for much these days. A man has to take any position he can get.

Yes, but if a man’s been to one of those High Schools it makes him different. Not any better, mind you. I’m all for the working class because I’m a worker myself, but an educated bloke has the advantage over a bloke like me. The girls chase him just to mention one thing, specially if he happens to be a big he-man as well.

Ken didn’t say anything to that. He just went on pulling, and he got Fred to stick a cigarette in his mouth and light it at the same time as he lit his own. And then Fred lolled back in his seat and watched him, and you could tell that about the only thing they had in common was that they both had cigarettes dangling out of their mouths.

Pull her round a bit with your left, Fred said. And there’s no need to bust your boiler.

It’s O.K. Ken said.

You’ve got the strength, Fred said.

I’m certainly no infant.

What good’s a man’s strength anyway? Say he goes and works in an office?

I hadn’t thought of that.

Another thing, he gets old. Fancy you getting old and losing your strength. Wouldn’t it be a shame?

Sure, Ken said. Why talk about it?

It sort of fascinates me. You’ll die someday, and where’ll that big frame of yours be then?

That’s an easy one. Pushing up the daisies.

It might as well be now as anytime, mightn’t it?

Good Lord, I don’t see that.

A man’d forget for good. It’d be just the same as it is out here on a day like this. Only better.

Ken stopped rowing to throw away his cigarette.

My God, he said, you’re a queer customer. Am I heading right?

Pull with your left, Fred said. But I’ll give you a spell.

It’s O.K. Ken said.

And he went on rowing and after a bit Fred emptied the lines out of the sugar bag and began cutting up the bait. And after a bit longer when they were about half-way over to the island he said they’d gone far enough, so Ken shipped his oars and threw the anchor overboard, and they got their lines ready and began to fish.

And by that time it was certainly turning out a great day. The sun was getting hot but there still wasn’t any wind, and as the tide had just about stopped running out down the Gulf the dinghy hardly knew which way to pull on the anchor rope. They’d pulled out less than two miles from the shore, but with the sea as it was it might have been anything from none at all up to an infinite number. You couldn’t hear a sound or see anything moving. It was another world. The houses on the shore didn’t belong. Nor the people either.

Wouldn’t you like to stay out here for good? Fred said.

Ring off, Ken said. I got a bite.

So did I, but it was only a nibble. Anyhow it’s not a good day for fish. It wants to be cloudy.

So I’ve heard.

I’ve been thinking, Fred said, it’s funny you never learnt to swim.

Oh I don’t know. Up to now I’ve always lived in country towns.

Doesn’t it make you feel a bit windy?

On a day like this! Anyhow, you couldn’t swim that distance yourself.

Oh couldn’t I! You’d be surprised … get a bite?

Yes I did.

Same here . . . you’ll be settling down here, won’t you, Ken.

It depends if I can get a position.

I suppose you’ll go on living with your auntie.

That depends too. If I got a good position I might be thinking of getting married.

Gee, that’d be great, wouldn’t it?

I got another bite, Ken said.

Same here. I reckon our lines are crossed.

So they pulled in their lines and they were crossed sure enough, but Ken had hooked the smallest snapper you ever saw.

He’s no good, Fred said. And he worked the fish off the hook and held it in his hand. They’re pretty little chaps, aren’t they? he said. Look at his colours.

Let him go, Ken said.
Poor little beggar, Fred said. I bet he wonders what’s struck him. He’s trying to get his breath. Funny isn’t it, when there’s plenty of air about? It’s like Douglas credit.

Oh for God’s sake, Ken said.

I bet in less than five minutes he forgets about how he was nearly suffocated, Fred said, and he threw the fish back. And it lay bewildered for a second on the surface, then it flipped its tail and was gone. It was comical in its way and they both laughed.

They always do that, Fred said. But don’t you wish you could swim like him?

Ken didn’t say anything to that and they put fresh bait on their hooks and tried again, but there were only nibbles. They could bring nothing to the surface.

I’ll tell you what, Fred said, those nibbles might be old men snapper only they won’t take a decent bite at bait like this.

And he explained that off the end of the island there was a reef where they could get plenty of big mussels. It would be just nice with the tide out as it was. The reef wouldn’t be uncovered, it never was, but you could stand on it in water up to your knees and pull up the mussels. And if you cut the inside out of a big mussel you only had to hang it on your hook for an old man snapper to go for it with one big bite.

It’s a fair way, Ken said.

It doesn’t matter, Fred said. We’ve got oceans of time. And he climbed past Ken to pull up the anchor, and Ken pulled in the lines, and then Fred insisted on rowing and they started for the end of the island.

And by that time the tide had begun to run in up the Gulf and there was a light wind blowing up against the tide, so that the sea, almost without your noticing it, was showing signs of coming up a bit rough. And the queer thing was that with the movement the effect of another world was destroyed. You seemed a part of the real world of houses and people once more. Yet with the sea beginning to get choppy the land looked a long way off.

Going back, Ken said, we’ll be pulling the wind.

Yes, Fred said, but the tide’ll be a help. Anyhow, what’s it matter when a man’s out with a big hefty bloke like you?

Nor did he seem to be in too much of a hurry to get to his reef. He kept resting on his oars to roll cigarettes, and when Ken said something about it he said they had oceans of time.

You’re in no hurry to get back, he said, Mary ’ll keep.

Well, Ken didn’t say anything to that.

Mary’s a great kid, Fred said.

Sure, Ken said. Mary’s one of the best.

I’ve known Mary for years, Fred said.

Yes, Ken said. So I’ve gathered.

I suppose you have. Up to a while ago Mary and I used to be great cobbers.

I’ll give you a spell, Ken said.

But Fred said it was O.K.

Mary’s got a bit of education too, he said. Only when her old man died the family was hard up so she had to go into service. It was lucky she got a good place at your auntie’s. Gee, I’ve been round there and had tea sometimes when your auntie’s been out, and oh boy is the tucker any good!

Look here, Ken said, at this rate we’ll never get to that reef.

Oh yes we will, Fred said, and he pulled a bit harder. If only a man hadn’t lost his job, he said.

I admit it must be tough, Ken said.

And then Fred stood up and took a look back at the shore. I thought there might be somebody else coming out, he said, but there isn’t. So thank God for that. And he said that he couldn’t stand anybody hanging around when he was fishing. By the way, he said, I forgot to do this before. And he stuffed pieces of cotton-wool into his ears. If the spray gets in my ears it gives me the earache, he said.

Then he really did settle down to his rowing, and with the sea more or less following them it wasn’t long before they were off the end of the island.

Nobody lived on the island. There were a few holiday baches but they were empty now that it was well on into the autumn. Nor from this end could you see any landing places, and with the wind blowing up more and more it wasn’t too pleasant to watch the sea running up the rocks. And Fred had to spend a bit of time manoeuvring around before he found his reef.

It was several hundred yards out with deep water all round, and it seemed to be quite flat. If the sea had been calm it might have been covered to a depth of about a foot with the tide as it was. But with the sea chopping across it wasn’t exactly an easy matter to stand there. At one moment the water was down past your knees, and the next moment you had to steady yourself while it came up round your thighs. And it was uncanny to stand there, because with the deep water all around you seemed to have discovered a way of standing up out in the sea.

Anyhow, Fred took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves and his trousers as far as they’d go, and then he hopped out and got Ken to do the same and keep hold of the dinghy. Then he steadied himself and began dipping his hands down and pulling up mussels and throwing them back into the dinghy, and he worked at a mad pace as though he hadn’t a moment to lose. It seemed only a minute or so before he was quite out of breath.

It’s tough work, he said. You can see what a weak joker I am.

I’ll give you a spell, Ken said, only keep hold of the boat.

Well, Fred held the dinghy, and by the way he was breathing and the look of his face you’d have thought he was going to die. But Ken had other matters to think about, he was steadying himself and dipping his hands down more than a yard away, and Fred managed to pull himself together and shove off the dinghy and hop in. And if you’d been sitting in the stern as he pulled away you’d have seen that he had his eyes shut. Nor did he open them except when he took a look ahead to see where he was going, and with the cotton-wool in his ears it was difficult for him to hear.

So for a long time he rowed like that against seas that were getting bigger and bigger, but about half-way back to the shore he took a spell. He changed over to the other side of the seat, so he didn’t have to sit facing the island, and he just sat there keeping the dinghy straight on. Then when he felt that he had collected all his strength he stood up and capsized the dinghy. It took a bit of doing but he did it.

And after that, taking it easy, he started on his long swim for the shore.