‘Hi,’ said Chris. ‘I assume you know which way the buoy is?’

Will turned and scowled at him. ‘I been fishin’ these waters for nearly thirty years. I know every nook and spit along this shoreline for twenty miles either way — ’

Oh boy, I’ve hit this guy’s squawk button.

‘- I can tell you. Hell, I could even tell you how far out from shore we are right now just by listening to the rhythm of the water.’

Will slapped the engine into neutral and turned it off. The boat drifted silently for a while.

Chris was a little bemused. ‘Uh… are you going to turn that back on now?’

‘Shhhhh… Just listen to that, do you hear it?’

Chris could hear nothing but the sound of Mark outside working on the aft deck and the gentle slapping of water on the hull. He saw Mark stand up and come forward to the pilothouse. He opened the door and stuck his head in. ‘What’s going on? Why’s the engine gone off?’

Chris shook his head and shrugged. ‘I think Captain Salty’s listening to the water,’ he said quietly.

‘You hear that?’ Will said eventually. ‘You can tell by the ditty she sings just how far out you are. I reckon we’re about a half mile out.’

Chris was impressed. ‘You can tell that just from the lapping sound? Sheeez, that’s pretty cool…’

Will smirked and shook his head; he turned the engine back on and slammed her back into gear. ‘Of course, it helps if you got one of these little babies.’ The old man pointed to a small digital Nav-Sat display beside the helm and snorted with laughter.

‘Oh, I see. Very funny.’