The life of a fisherman on Newfoundland would be considered by almost everyone to be rough and dangerous. Both the lobster and crab fishing seasons are controlled by a combination of the weather, the temperature of the water and restrictions laid down by the national government. On some years the short seasons overlap and become one even shorter season.

To the fishermen, such as Ezequiel Stone, danger or not, it was just their job. Like many of them, he had first been taken to sea by his father when he was thirteen and had worked on boats for the forty years since then.

He was a married man and his wife had born him three daughters, all now grown, and no sons. What love there had been in the marriage had, over the years, slowly faded liked worn towels until now it was only a pale shade of what it had been.

He and Franny lived under the same roof and spoke when it was needed. They were like resigned roommates who shared a bed because there was only one. She was the only person who knew him who called him Ezequiel. No one had ever called him Zeke. The rest of his world simply called him Stone.

The small trawler which he owned was the same one his father had used the years before his death. He had worked on it with his father for the five years before he died and had operated it with the help of one crew member since then.

Among the other fishermen on the island was one named Skylar Przevalsky, whose forebears had emigrated from Vladivostok over a hundred years ago. Sky, as he was known, was fifteen years younger than Stone, but much younger in experience. He had worked hard and mortgaged his house to be able to buy a fishing boat.

His wife had wanted him to find other work, although she had no idea what he would have done. She simply didn’t like being married to a fisherman, despite the fact every man in her family were fishermen. Or perhaps that was the reason she pushed Sky to pursue a different way of life.

But it was to no avail. Like many of the men of Newfoundland, fishing was what he knew, and what he wanted. He’d had his boat for three years, and was happiest when he was at sea.

This winter had been particularly brutal, with three nor’easters blasting the island, separated only by days. When the last one had approached he’d anchored his boat in a narrow, shallow inlet, thinking it would be protected from the winds.

That night the sea had frozen and the ice had shattered his boat into kindling. When freed from the ice it would be completely unsalvageable. His livelihood was destroyed along with the boat.

Bay Cove was a community of fifteen hundred souls in which everyone knew who everyone else was, even if they didn’t know them personally. Such was the case with Stone. He was disturbed to hear that one of his fellow fishermen had suffered such a devastating loss.

Stone had himself undergone a terrible misfortune the previous September, which haunted him still. For several years he’d employed a cousin as his helper on the boat. Actually, Otto was his long-dead grandmother’s cousin, and was seventy-two years old, but still active and insisted on working.

I was the last day of the ground-fishing season and they were heading back to Bay Cove with a boat-load of cod. Otto was standing in the aft of the boat, folding nets. Standing in the wheelhouse, Stone had yelled a question at him and hadn’t gotten an answer. He turned his head to yell the same question again and saw Otto wasn’t there.

He circled back and repeated the circle, enlarging it each time, but there was no sign of the old man. It was well after dark when the Coast Guard’s floodlight lit up the body.

An autopsy showed no sign of trauma, and there was only a small amount of water in the lungs. It was decided he’d had a heart attack or stroke and was dead before he hit the water. The death certificate simply stated death by natural causes.

The long cold nights of winter had reflected the deep depression that gripped Stone. Through the years of his life, he’d known death, even the unjust, cruel death of both man-caused accidents and acts of God. But never had it struck so close to home. Having ridden the sea all his life, his father had died in his own bed, his family nearby.

With Uncle Otto, as everybody called him, he felt he was somehow responsible. ‘If I had only’… and the possibilities piled one upon the other. He told himself he was being a fool but to no good end. The winter was severe, as were his self-recriminations.

When the news reached him of the young Sky’s misfortune, some of his futile thoughts of what he could have done to save Uncle Otto were replaced with thoughts of what he could do to help a fellow fisherman.

When the spring lobster season approached, and the spring thaw began, Stone came to a final decision. He would ask the young man if he wished to become his helper, or maybe offer him a partnership. He only didn’t know how to approach him without it seeming like charity. He knew these people. They were like him. They held a great deal of pride.

In the waning light of the afternoon, Stone walked up the curving, unpaved road that led to the small house which he knew was owned by Sky. It was apparent that the owner continually made repairs on the building, but it was so old that time and weather did damage more rapidly than could be rectified.

It was painted a bright blue with white trim. There was a trace of a small vegetable garden from the previous summer in front of the house and a rather worn pickup truck parked at the side.

Stone knocked on the door and in only a minute a young woman jerked the door open. His first impression was that she had once been very pretty, but now had weight she didn’t carry well. Her hair had been carelessly piled on top of her head and was slipping free of the comb that was supposed to be holding it in place.

‘All mops and brooms,’ thought Stone.

The front of her dress was wet and she had soap suds on her hands and arms.

She squinted at Stone. “Who you looks for?” she asked sullenly.

Stone doffed his cap and said, “Can I speak ta yer ‘usband?”

Without breaking her gaze or turning her head she called out, “Sky, someone’s ‘ere ta see ya, b’y.”

The door swung open wider and Stone was looking at a well-built, fine-looking man with a fresh, unlined face. He looked younger than Stone expected, but as he looked in the man’s eyes he saw a heavy sadness there as if he knew he’d done no wrong, but life wasn’t treating him fairly.

“Come in, come in,” he said, stepping back so Stone could enter. The woman turned and went back to washing clothes in the kitchen sink without saying any more.

Stone followed Sky to the fireplace where a small fire sputtered, hardly warming the hearth. “Sit,” Sky said, indicating the upholstered chair where he’d obviously been sitting.

“I’d like ta ‘ave a yarn, b’y” Stone said, using the local term for chat.

“I’ll put da ‘ol slut on an’ we’ll ‘ave some tea,” Sky said. “Missus, put da wood in da ‘ole,” he said looking at his wife.

She gave him a nasty look, but took a step to the open door and closed it roughly. He filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove.

Although Stone considered Sky to be someone he only knew of, Sky had been aware of Stone for years. He had watched him from afar and admired how he dealt with people and problems, even if he hadn’t known what their business or problems might have been.

He was both thrilled and honored the man had come to his house but wondered why. He sat on a small bench that was by the hearth and looked at Stone’s face, noting he seemed a little uncomfortable.

“Whatta yat?” Sky asked, “Is ya ‘hard at it all da time or wa?”

It was a strange question since he must have known that the harbor was just becoming navigable, and no one had begun fishing yet.

Stone shook his head. “Nuttin, b’y,” he answered. “the sea is no slacked up yet.”

They sat without talking for a couple of minutes. Sky glanced at the kettle and saw the water was boiling. He got up and brought it to the table by the chair in which Stone was sitting. He carefully filled two mugs with the steaming water. Stone noticed there were tea bags on a saucer. Franny would never have allowed bagged tea in her house, insisting on steeping the tea in a traditional teapot.

As Stone dipped a bag in his mug he decided he had better lay his proposition out. He told how he’d lost his Uncle Otto nine months before, a story that Sky was very familiar with, as was the whole community. He explained how he needed someone to help him on the boat, and finally told Sky that he’d like to offer him the job.

It was true that Sky was a proud man, but he was also a practical, realistic one. He knew he was a fisherman without a boat. He had no way of making a living, and this was a man he respected, a man with many years of experience, offering him a way out of his dilemma.

Furthermore, although Stone had intended to hire him as an assistant, he had ended up asking him to come on board as a partner. Sky expressed his astonishment and gratitude by stating “Go on, by’e.”

Stone smiled. “Yes, by’e.”

They shook hands and confirmed the deal.

Sky only wanted to know one thing. “When?” was his only question.

Stone pointed out there was work to be done on the boat, lobster traps to be repaired and some new ones made. There were still large chunks of ice in the sea. They should be ready to set sail in a couple of weeks.

Stone left the house with Sky smiling and watching him walk down the muddy, rutted road. Sky’s wife had not spoken one word to him. He thought her a bitter young woman and wondered what life with her must be like.

With Sky’s help, they were ready to begin setting out their traps ten days after they’d joined forces. The next few weeks were some of the most productive in either of their careers.

He was continuously impressed by the younger man’s vitality and enthusiasm. He was always in good spirits and willing to accomplish whatever task Stone set him to do. His strength gave him staying power that lasted throughout the long days. Stone noticed his cheer faded as they neared port. He wondered if that was because of his love of the sea, or dread of what awaited him at home.

Sky was pleased to be working with the more experienced fisherman whom he admired and noted that Stone was always willing to show him how to do something which was unfamiliar to him, and he was anxious to prove he was a quick learner. He was inspired by how strong the older man was and was assured by his calmness.

There was only one thing that disturbed him, and that only slightly. On the second day out, they had been standing side by side in the wheel-house, chatting amiably, when Stone grew quiet.

After a couple minutes, in a hardly audible voice, he said, “Dis is where it ‘appened.”

Sky knew he was talking about the loss of Otto. Sky didn’t speak, and Stone remained quiet. He cut his eyes in Stone’s direction and saw he was frowning as if he felt a severe pain. His whole face had taken on a tragic aspect.

Several times during the next three weeks there would be incidences when something relating to Otto would arise and the same depression would overtake him. Sky had no idea what words would help dispel the gloom, so he kept quiet until Stone spoke to him again.

Another week passed, with the harvests proving to increase each one over the previous. One morning with the sky overcast and a strong wind kicking up whitecaps, they set out a little later than usual. Stone had simply been listless and slow moving, which was unusual for him. He normally was the one urging others to hustle.

As the day progressed the sky grew darker and the wind increased. It became difficult to deny they were in for a late spring storm. Stone persisted in trying to reach as many of the traps as they could, but soon he had to admit they weren’t going to get to them all, and he turned the boat to head back to port.

It was late afternoon, but in a matter of minutes, a darkness overtook them that was more like what they called duckish, when the sun had set but there was still some light. The wind was so strong that Stone was having trouble keeping the boat on course.

“I don’t think we can make it back,” he shouted to Sky.

Sky whirled around in his direction and yelled, “G’wan.”

“No, I’m serious. We ‘ave ta find shelter till dis blows by,” Stone answered. “It’s my fault. I shoulda paid attention. I knows better.”

He steered near the coast, being careful to stay far enough away that a gust of wind wouldn’t blow them on shore, or worse, against rocks.

“Der!” he shouted shortly. “Der’s an inlet dat isn’t facing the wind. We should be protected there.”

He slew the boat toward the shore and used all his experience to guide it into the small inlet without crashing against the cliff walls.

They dropped anchor. Rain had begun falling, blown by the wind so that it hit you in the face. The boat rocked precariously, making even coils of rope slide across the deck. They spent half an hour tying down what they could.

“I spotted a house up on da hill as we came in,” Stone shouted. “We should go up der an’ see if we can find shelter.”

They jumped over and waded to shore, clambered up the rocks and climbed to the house. When they drew near they saw it was of the old Viking style, made of stone and built into the hill.

“No one lives ‘ere,” said Stone.

“‘ow ya know?” asked Sky.

“No truck, no animals,” was all he answered.

They saw the only window was broken and had been covered with boards, which now lay scattered on the ground. It was clear someone had broken into the house at some point. Stone went to the door and found it was unlatched. He pushed it open and peered in. Signaling for Sky to follow him he entered.

The room was empty, except for a pile of trash in one corner. There was a stack of wood by the fireplace and an old cast-iron sink on one wall. Nothing else.

“I saw a cistern on the roof,” Stone said. He went to the sink and opened the tap. After a second, water came out.

“We can stay ‘ere for the night, but we need ta go back to the boat to bring up some stuff,” Stone said as much to himself as to Sky.

They went out and back down to the boat, slipping on the wet grass and grabbing onto sharp boulders that jutted out from the ground.

“Chinch da tarp in da cuddy,” Storm instructed Sky.

Sky roughly folded the tarpaulin and stowed it in the space at the bow of the boat. In the wheel-house they took a couple of blankets and used them to hold a few supplies. Stone pulled the seat pad off the bench that was on one side of the cabin and something clattered to the floor.

He stood, looking down at it for several seconds, then bent and scooped it up. He held it in his hand looking at it, but not speaking.

“Wha’s dat?” Sky asked.

“Uncle Otto’s pipe,” Stone answered in little more than a whisper.

Sky remained where he was not knowing what to say. A minute passed.

Suddenly, Stone jammed the pipe into his pocket and said, “We gotta get outta ‘ere.” He rolled a blanket around the bench pad. By the time they returned to the rock house the rain was falling hard.

The wind was blowing the rain into the room through the broken window, so they dropped their bundles and went back out. Stone held the boards which had previously covered the window in place while Sky used a loose rock to hammer the nails back in to secure them.

They went back into the house and secured the door as best they could. Stone took several pieces of the wood and set about building a fire. In a few minutes, the flames were flickering and catching hold.

Stone looked at Sky. “You’s bivering like a scared rabbit.”

“I’m sached and just ‘bout skinned” Sky responded.

“You’s better get out of dem wet clothes.”

Sky looked as if he didn’t know what he should do. He wasn’t accustomed to undressing in front of another man. Stone sensed the problem and began pulling off his own soaked clothes. When he saw what Stone was doing, Sky followed suit.

Whenthey were down to their underpants they stopped and spread their wet clothes on the floor around the fireplace.

Stone looked at Sky, “Ya hungry?”

I’m just ‘bout gutfounded,” Sky said, laughing.

“I’ll fire up a scoff,” Stone said, mockingly.

“Watcha got?” Sky asked, knowing they brought only two cans of soup from the boat.

“Ta da!” Stone trumpeted, holding up the cans. “Ya think we can find a pot?”

Sky shook his head. “Nare one ‘ere.”

“No problem,” Stone said.

He had brought a can opener and used it on each can, then set them on the hearth near the fire. They shook out the blankets and draped them over their shoulders to ward off the cold air that kept slipping in between the boards covering the window. While the cans of soup heated they sat on the floor talking.

Stone decided to ask a question that had been nettling him for all these weeks. Sky hadn’t said anything about expecting to add a child to their family, but he’d seen his wife that first day.

“Yer missus, wha’s her name?”

“Sarah.”

“Yes, Sarah. Is der something under her pinny?”

“No,” Sky said, and then laughed.

“Wha?” Stone asked, looking at him.

“She just blowed up like a blood poison cat,” Sky said, still smiling.

Stone nodded, having known other women who gorged themselves on food, without regard to what they were doing to their bodies. He didn’t know it was sometimes caused by being caught in an unhappy situation. In this case, as suspected by Stone, her unhappiness she returned to her husband.

Stone had known ill-tempered women in his life. “Is she binikey?” he asked.

The smile faded from Sky’s face. He nodded. “So more it was,” he conceded.

Still, Stone wondered, if she wasn’t pregnant, why wasn’t she? They’d been married a dozen years, and there were no children. Even in a marriage that had little love, children held it together. Although he had never put it into a concrete thought, he knew his own marriage was an example of that.

He decided he’d stuck his nose in far enough. He picked up their undershirts from the floor and wrapped one around each soup can. He stuck a spoon into one of the cans and using the undershirt as insulation, he offered the can to Sky.

“Da can’s hotter than da soup,” he warned, “so be careful.”

He sliced off a hunk of the bread they’d brought on board and handed it to Sky. They sat in silence, concentrating on the meager meal. When they finished Stone took the cans, spread the undershirts on the floor again and rinsed out the cans.

While Stone was putting more wood on the fire, Sky stood up and picked up his undershirt and went to the sink. He wet it and rubbed it under his armpits. He didn’t think about the way Stone might smell. His thoughts were only that he didn’t want to offend his friend.

He laid the wet shirt back near the fire. “I need ta take a piss,” he said.

“Well, you can’t go outside,” Stone said, turning toward him. “Look in dat pile of trash ta see it dere’s something ya can use.”

He used his foot to move the pile around and bent over and pulled out a wine bottle.

“I doubt you can stick it in there,” laughed Stone. “You better have some good aim.”

Sky turned his back and pulled out his dick. He put the tip against the bottle opening and started pissing, splashing a large quantity on his hand.

“Shit,” he kept saying over and over.

Stone stood watching him, chuckling. He felt a sudden warmth for the man.

When he finished Sky carefully set the bottle on the floor next to the pile of trash. He went to the sink again and rinsed his hand.

Stone was still looking at Sky. “We might as well get some sleep so we can get out early tomorrow. They’ll be worried about us.”

He knew that the whole community would know they hadn’t returned before the storm hit with its full force, and would be keeping watch for them, not just their families.

“You take da pad,” he continued.

“No, no, no,” Sky protested. “Dat’s for you.”

“You hear your captain?” Stone asked, frowning. “I’ll say it again. You take da pad.”

Sky was pretty sure Stone was kidding, but not completely. He shrugged and went to where Stone had placed the mat, about three feet to the side of the fireplace. He lay down, turning his back to the room and spread the blanket over himself.

Stone debated with himself whether to double the blanket to cushion the hard floor more, and sleep uncovered, or to wrap it around him to fend off the cold. He decided he needed the warmth and protection from the blasts of wind that snuck in between the boards covering the window. He lay down at a right angle to Sky, their feet nearly touching.

They went to sleep with the sound of the rain lashing against those boards. Sky had no idea how long he’d been asleep when he woke up. It took him a few seconds to become aware of where he was. He turned onto his other side so he was facing the room. For some unknown reason, he opened his eyes. He was surprised to see Stone sitting in front of the fireplace, his legs crossed, his blanket draped over his shoulders.

He was holding something in his hand. As he turned it over and over Sky saw it was the pipe that Stone had said was his Uncle Otto’s. Stone leaned forward and stirred the fire so that it flared up. Sky watched the light of the fire flicker over the older man’s muscular arms and chest. Without being able to put his thoughts into the correct words, he thought him a viral and handsome man.

But he noticed that his face was reflecting something more than the fire. Or perhaps instead of reflecting, it was showing something hidden deep inside. He remembered how he’d looked at times on the boat. The expression was one of extreme moroseness, the look of a man who had suffered a terrible loss and blamed himself for it.

Looking at him, Sky felt a sharp pain somewhere within himself. He got up off the mat and stepped over to where Stone sat. He lowered himself to sit next to him, their legs lightly touching. Stone didn’t look at him. Neither of them said a word, but Stone was aware the younger man was uncovered. He took an edge of his blanket, lifted it and settled it over Sky’s back.

A few minutes later Sky raised his arm and laid it on Stone’s shoulders, gripping the deltoid muscle of the shoulder further away.

A piece of wood crumbled, sending sparks scattering. The wind whistled around the house.

More minutes passed. Stone laid the pipe he was still holding on the hearth and put his hand on Sky’s knee and cocked his head, leaning it against Sky’s. Words still weren’t necessary.

Sky turned his head slightly so he could see part of Stone’s face, which was inches from his own. Stone responded by turning his head toward Sky, their foreheads touching.

What happened next neither of them had ever considered happening, neither could have conceived of it. They both moved slightly to close the inches that separated them. They adjusted the angle of their heads and their lips met, at first gently, then pressed firmly.

Stone bit Sky’s lower lip and Sky opened his mouth. Stone thrust his tongue in, and the gentle kiss became passionate. The blanket slid to the floor, hands grasped arms, arms encircled bodies, fingernails dug into flesh, tongue wrestled with tongue.

While still kissing his partner, Stone struggled to his feet, pulling Sky up with him. Clinging to each other like a drowning man clinging to a floating log, they stumbled back to the pad and fell on it, arms and legs tangled. Frantically, they tore at each other’s underpants, pulling them down and kicking them off.

They ground their groins together, their blood engorged dicks slipping back and forth, their hands exploring never before seen parts of the other’s body. Kisses covered faces and ears and necks, returning hungrily to mouths.

Passion and desire and lust became one thing and first one dick erupted with spurts of cum coating the other dick and then that one spewing forth shot after shot of cum mixing with the first.

They continued kissing as the fervor slowly ebbed, much like the tide going out. The kisses returned to gentle, the breathing to regular.

Sky turned slightly and reached for his wet undershirt where he’d laid it on the floor. He handed it to Stone so he could clean his pubes and loins, but instead Stone carefully and gently wiped Sky’s first.

When they were clean Stone got up and retrieved the two blankets and returned to the pad. He threw them both over Sky and then lay down and drew them over himself. He put his arm around Sky and pulled him close, their now soft dicks once again pressed against each other. A few more kisses gave way to sleep.

It was shortly after sunrise when Sky awoke. During the night Stone had rolled over so now they both faced into the room. Sky’s dick was hard again, and his erection was pressed against Stone’s ass cheeks. He slid his hand across Stone’s hip and down to find his dick. It was soft and pliant and heavy.

He wrapped his hand around it and squeezed. He felt it awaken and begin to grow. He fondled it until it was as hard as his own. He ran his fist up and down it, hearing Stone’s breathing change. Stone reached behind himself and forced his hand between their bodies. He grasped Sky’s firm dick and by raising one leg slightly he inserted it beneath his taint with the tip of it touching the back of his ball sack.

He clamped his legs tightly and Sky began a fucking motion in tandem with jacking Stone’s dick. He kissed and lightly bit the back of Stone’s neck and his shoulder. Stone moved his head from side to side against Sky’s forehead.

Their breathing grew heavier and ragged. Sky fucked his dick in and out faster. His balls drew up and he felt the cum rush through his dick and burst out. He continued the motion, smearing his cum between Stone’s legs and on his scrotum.

Stone gasped as his dick jumped and his cum jetted out, again, and again, and again, landing on the stone floor. Sky’s hand remained holding Stone’s dick as it softened. He didn’t want to let it go.

After a minute Stone took Sky’s wrist and pulled his hand away. He turned his head in Sky’d direction and looked in his eyes.

“G’morning,” he said, his face creased with a smile.

“G’morning.” Sky returned the greeting and the smile.

Stone gave him a quick kiss and tossed back the blankets. He got up off the pad. He picked up Sky’s undershirt which was in a wadded up ball and shook it out. It was still damp. This time he wiped away the cum from his crotch and then tossed the shirt to Sky so he might clean off his dick.

He watched Sky and when he was finished he asked, “You want me ta toss dat on the pile in da corner?”

Sky looked at his undershirt and then tossed it to one side. Stone shrugged. He stepped over to where the soup cans from the night rested. He picked up a thermos and unscrewed the top. He poured coffee into each can and nestled the cans among the glowing coals.

Sky sat on the pad watching this man’s movements. He looked at the dick he’d been holding mere minutes before. He assessed it was about the same length as his own and was a little heavier…fatter.

He knew that one reason Sarah had married him was because she’d once seen him naked, by accident, and she’d been determined to have him, and particularly that exceptional part of him, for her own.

After they were married it soon became apparent she had no idea how to have a satisfactory sexual relationship. When they engaged in intercourse, she just lay there, not contributing anything to the action, expecting him to do everything. There had never been anything like the pleasure he’d experienced in the last eight hours.

He grew frustrated with trying, disappointed with the results and bored with the whole process. Eventually, he stopped, sleeping by her side but not touching her, suffering her growing ill-temper. And so it had been for a dozen years.

Now he sat there watching the man he loved. What a strange thing to think. How could this have come to be?

Stone used his undershirt to wrap around one of the cans and handed it to Sky.

“It’s no ‘ot, but it’s drinkable. Be careful, don’t burn yer lip,” he cautioned.

He then had a thought. “Wait b’ye. Here.”

He unscrewed the top from the thermos again and held it while Sky poured the coffee from the can into the top. He pulled the second can from the fire but didn’t attempt to drink from it.

He squatted a few feet away and watched Sky sip his coffee, thinking, ‘Not a bad bit nice,’ which was a strange way of saying ‘beautiful.’

He’d never thought of a man being beautiful before. Why did he think so now of this man? Why did he have a feeling filling him that he hadn’t felt for many years?

Sky finished his coffee and handed the plastic top to Stone. He filled it with his coffee and drank it down. He got to his feet and went to the door, unlatched it and pulled it open.

The air was cool but fresh. He stepped out and saw there were ragged clouds in the sky, but strips of blue were beginning to show through. The storm had passed and was now miles to the east, far out over the Atlantic. He stepped out and started to piss.

Sky had followed him out, and he pissed too. After a moment he turned slightly and their two thick, twisting streams of piss combined, splattering on the rocky ground. It seemed a fitting union.

They shook the last drops from their dicks. Stone put his rough hand on the small of Sky’s back and guided him back into the house.

“We gotta get goin’. They’ll be worrying ‘bout us fer sure.”

By ‘they’ he meant the whole community. He knew that news of their not returning had spread through the town the night before, and folk would be out searching for them by now.

Their clothes were dry enough. They dressed in silence. Stone saw Sky pick up his cum soaked undershirt and shove it into his pocket, but he didn’t say a word. They folded the blankets, gathered the thermos, spoons, can opener and bench pad. Stone took the wine bottle that held Sky’s piss from the night before and emptied it on the ashes of the fire.

They left the house, pulling the door securely shut and headed down the hillside to the inlet. Their boat had weathered the storm with no damage. Stone started the engine while Sky put the things they carried in their proper place.

The sea was calm and Stone turned the prow toward home, planning to empty the lobster traps they hadn’t gotten to the day before on the way to port.

As the sun rose higher in the sky he looked at the younger man standing in the prow of the boat – the man with whom he’d slept the night before and thought, ‘Dis is something new for me, or for both of us. It’s gonna be difficult, but we’ll find a way. We ‘ave ta, and we will.’

As if hearing his thoughts Sky turned and looked at him, a big smile on his face. Stone smiled back and gave him a thumbs up.

Sky pursed his lips and sent him a kiss, and threw his head back, laughing.