“Good luck old man.” the boy said.
“Good luck,” the old man said. He fitted the rope lashings of the oars onto the thole pins and,
leaning forward against the thrust of the blades in the water, he began to row out of the harbour in
the dark. There were other boats from the other beaches going out to sea and the old man heard the
dip and push of their oars even though he could not see them now the moon was below the hills.