The Fisherman's Catch
The fog had been coming off the Thames all evening, the kind of thick yellow fog that pressed against the windowpanes like a living thing. Thomas Finch stood on the dock at Wapping and watched it swallow the masts of his six smacks one by one, from the largest at the far end to the little one he'd named after his mother.Six boats. Six months of saving, six months of his father working double...
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