Oh the joy of slicing through the water driven by the thrust of your legs, your arms, your back, the only sounds being the slap of waves against the hull and the rhythmic creaking of the oarlocks as you row. That he’d had to give it all up for this dingy cabin which reeked of diesel was unbearable. A horn blared for him to get out of the way as one of those slick cruise liners towered over him easing into its dedicated mooring place. Raising two fingers, he saluted the passengers lounged on the railings eyeing him with scorn. He wiped his oil stained hands on a rag and steered his boat away, setting course for the open sea. Well free of the port, he pulled back on the throttle and the boat lurched forward trailing a gaggle of seagulls. Rounding the headland, he steered into a nearby cove, cut the engine, tossed the anchor overboard and let his boat drift aimlessly on the waves. He didn’t have to wait long. A dingy sporting an outboard motor sped out of the shadows heading noisily for him. So much for discretion. Halting along side, its occupant, whose face was shroud by a hood, accepted the heavy cloth sack he was handed and sped away. Turning his boat towards the open sea, he grabbed the microphone and announced, “The fish has taken the bait.”
232 words.