Jeff headed back inside the pilothouse. He looked sternly at Tom and tapped the depth sounder display with his knuckles.

‘You been watching this, right?’

Tom nodded. ‘Sure.’

‘All the time, right?’

‘Uh, yeah. It’s been nothing but flat bed for the last hour, Skip.’

‘Yeah? Well obviously it hasn’t because we’ve snagged our nets on something, and it sure as hell ain’t cod.’

Tom’s jaw flapped ineffectively again, his Adam’s apple bobbed in sympathy.

‘Don’t say anything boy, or you’ll just piss me off even more. Put this boat in reverse and let’s retrace our steps.’

‘Sure, Skip.’

‘And this time keep your eyes on the sounder. Reckon you can do that for me?’

Tom nodded vigorously. Jeff left the pilothouse once more and found himself muttering under his breath yet again.

Somebody else can take his sorry ass out, next time.

Outside, Ian and Duncan were awaiting orders.

‘Okay, Ian… you’re on the winch. We’re going to carry on reversing, and I want the slack on the net pulled in as we go.’

The boat began to shudder again as the engine engaged reverse gear, and slowly they started backwards. Ian operated the winch, intermittently slamming it on and off to recover the net as the tension allowed, and Jeff studied the wet folds of braided nylon netting for damage as it slowly built up on the aft deck.

Ten minutes had passed when he heard Tom calling out from the pilothouse.

‘What is it?’ he shouted back.

‘I think you should see this, Skip. Not sure if I’m reading this right.’

Jeff threw down the net and started towards him.

So NOW he sees something.

Tom turned towards Jeff as he entered, and pointed towards the green glow of the sounder’s display.

‘I umm… didn’t notice that there before — ’

Jeff looked at the ghostly image on the display screen, a grainy rendition of the seabed in profile. Flat from left to right, but with an unmistakable spike building up on the extreme right.