Chapter 2

Skiff set out earlier than usual the next morning. 4am to be exact - he checked the clock. Today would be the day he made up for yesterday's poor sell and return home with a full wallet and less fish. Luckily, the fish were biting early that morning and the sailor managed to collect a further 18 by the time he rowed back to shore in his little dinghy and tied it along the western harbour line. It was 9am by this point, and the shops along the streets were beginning to flip their red 'closed' signs around to the green sides that welcomed potential customers in with an 'open'.

Brigodston had several harbours, but the western one was the closest to Skiff's home, and the section of ocean it led out to was usually the most pregnant with catch. Several little boats of varying sizes were lying near the stone walls, their sails flapping lazily in the morning air. Gull's perched on the bows and sterns of the vessels, cawing nosily to each other over the sound of the gentle waves. Two little crabs ran across the sand in front of Skiff's foot as he dragged his dawn haul from his own skiff, before making his way, barefooted, onto the ramp leading up to the main town. He replaced his shoes once he made it off the beach, and then set out to find his stall, which was still standing along the southern seafront.

Along the way he side stepped into a small little patisserie to buy breakfast. Two old ladies sat at a small table by the window, but it was otherwise empty except for the people behind the counter. Skiff knew of both of them – the siblings Dan and Nelly Blair, the only two on the whole of Brigodston who'd never so much as paddled in the sea. Their mother was Lucy Blair, the mayor of Brigodston. She'd always insisted that her children take part in village life, which they'd protested at, but eventually agreed to, so long as they didn't have to haul around 'stinking fish' all day.

Both of the siblings were as attractive as each other, with fair hair and smoky grey eyes. Nelly had a series of freckles running across her cheeks, and Dan had a small beauty spot on the right side of his chin.

"One apricot croissant and a coffee please" Skiff requested, making sure to leave his fish just outside the door.

Dan served him the croissant whilst Nelly set about making his drink. Skiff waited patiently for both orders, watching with curiosity at how the drinks were prepared from the dispensers.

It looked an easy enough job, but why anyone would reject the opportunity to fish, he didn't know.

"4 50" Nelly smiled, holding out her hand. Skiff passed over the right amount of change, took the bag containing his breakfast and started heading towards the door.

"You forgot your receipt" Dan grunted, coming out from behind the counter.

"Oh I don't need o-"

Dan pressed a piece of paper into Skiff's hands and then walked briskly back into the kitchen. Skiff looked down at it expecting to see proof of a meagre purchase, but was surprised to find he had not been given a receipt – but a warning. On the paper Dan had passed him were the words 'stay away from her' in red ink. Skiff blinked, completely taken aback.

Perhaps it wasn't such an uncommon warning. As the mayor's children, and attractive people in general, there was no shortage of men and women in the village that had flirted and dated both of the Blair children. Skiff however, had never been one. In fact he hadn't even considered the prospect. For being the child of well known families, The Eastport's matched the Blair's. But the Blair's status was political and built on wealth. The Eastport's were merely nice people who'd served countless generations of families their supper for the night. In fact, as a general thing, Skiff had never even considered the prospect of dating anyone at all, had no plans to, and had no duty to. He was friends with everyone, and that was more than enough for him. He shoved the paper into his back pocket with a shrug, and retrieved his fish for the market.

To his delight, it was much busier today, and he separated the fish from yesterday to one half of the stall, noting they were not as fresh as the others, but just as eatable. He even discounted those, and was pleased to see the coins in his pocket again. He'd almost forgotten about Pescecorp, up until a brand new customer he'd never seen before passed just in front of his stall.

He was a tall man with broad shoulders that stretched the fabric of a dark grey turtleneck jumper. Over the top was a set of orange overalls, which were tucked into heavy duty black boots and cut short before a pair of blue gloves. The man wore a grey cap over his hair, and a set of sunglasses, so much of his face was obscured from the public eye, except for a few black hairs that hung around his ears and the back of his head, silvery grey at the roots. Although Skiff knew nothing of this man, he suddenly heard whispers ring around the market.

"Is that him?"

"David Joneson?"

"The leader of that Pescecorp Company?"

"That's big Dave alright"

Big was one word for Dave alright. Even without the boots, Skiff would have had to have guessed the man reached at least 6ft 3. With the boots, he towered above everyone in the streets, and his erratic uniform didn't help either. As he passed the Eastport-Pram fishing stand, he cast a sideways glance at the dozen fish still lying in the ice. Behind his glasses, Skiff saw one dark green eye stare at him. The other socket, that made Skiff's body tingle, was empty, and a small scar ran along the underside of that void. Dave's mouth twitched at Skiff, and then he moved on from the stall, and around the corner.

Instantaneously, the entire street seemed to breathe out, as though they'd been holding a collective breath. Several onlookers came up to Skiff to ask what he'd seen, whether he knew the man, or if he'd said anything. Skiff admitted that he hadn't, but fear clawed at his insides like a rake. If that man was leading Pescecorp, Skiff's first impression somehow wasn't one of an ecofriendly company. He hurried about selling his last few fish, wanting to find the man again, wanting to see what was going on. Out of desperation, Skiff packed up his stand earlier than he'd been meaning too, storing his last remaining haddock in some fresh ice for his dinner later. His wallet fell full enough for the time being, but his curiosity was not yet fulfilled.

As luck would have it, he spotted the old man from yesterday and quickly ran up, startling him a little.

"Sir do you remember where the big black boat was from yesterday?"

The pensioner's pupils retracted behind his spectacles, but then he nodded gravely, sensing the fisherman already knew about the company, and he figured, their threat.

"North-eastern dock" He murmured, looking at the ground.

"Thank you" Skiff nodded, and began to make his way over. The North-eastern dock was one rarely visited by Skiff, for it was in the richer area of Brigodston, where the trading came in. Fish weren't as plentiful due to being scared off by the large ships and ferries, so there was no reason for him to go unless he was after other forms of trades and goods, which he almost never was.

As he approached, he heard the black boat before he saw it. A large, thundering foghorn that sent a small flock of kittiwakes scattering into the sky. Skiff rounded the corner, and finally saw the Pescecorp boat for the first time.

Much like Dave, the word big was an understatement. It was huge, taking up almost the entire section of the dock. Surely the fit through the harbour wall must have been an awfully tight squeeze. Skiff saw silver lettering along the broadsides which spelt 'PESCECORP' in large capital letters. Above the letters was a large painted fish, who's mouth was open in a little o shape as a net was being thrown over it. But the painted silver fish had nothing on what lay on the dockside under the boat. Dave stood between two other people, who were dressed in the same uniform. In front of them was a large platform. And on that platform were fish and cephalopods. Not 27 like Skiff's catch from yesterday. There were absolutely thousands.