‘Put her in reverse… gently,’ he shouted. Tom nodded eagerly and went back to the helm. The trawler shuddered as gears engaged and the gentle diesel rumble changed to a rhythmic chug. Slowly the boat eased back, the outrigger swung with a metallic groan and the net slackened.

Jeff waved his hand at Tom, and the rhythm of the engine changed again as she went back into neutral. The trawler drifted a few more feet backward under its own momentum and then came to rest.

On the calm, mirror surface of the sea, the boat was unnaturally still.

‘Shall we try and pull in the net, Skip?’ asked Ian.

‘Yeah, but go gently… I don’t want any more damage done if it can be helped.’

Ian reached for a lever beside the base of the starboard outrigger and pulled it down. With a clunk and a rattle the motor on the hydraulic winch whirred to life and began winding in the net. Jeff watched the fibres of the net begin to stretch and the winch’s motor began to struggle.

‘It’s not coming in,’ shouted Ian above the noise. He looked at Jeff and placed a hand back on the lever, ready to put the motor out of its misery.

‘Nope. Damned thing’s snagged. Shut it off.’

The lad slammed the lever down and the motor on the hydraulic winch sputtered and died.

Jeff was looking at losing a hundred-dollar net if he didn’t play his cards right. A hundred-dollar net, four days of cruising diesel, the cost of groceries for four hungry mouths… and a less than stellar haul on ice, below decks, to pay for it all.

It was getting too dark to see anything. ‘Tom!’ He barked towards the pilothouse. ‘Put on the floods.’

Twin beams bathed the aft deck with a powerful white light, and all of a sudden twin 1000-watt halogen bulbs obliterated the last, faint glow of dusk. It was officially night.

‘Whad’ya want to do, Skip?’ asked Duncan.

Good question.