“Cod—mostly.”
“Ye got some halibut.”
“A few.” Andy admitted it grudgingly. His tone implied that the Creator withheld halibut out of pure spite. The ways of the universe were a personal grievance to Andy.
“Quite a nice mess,” said Uncle William. “Goin’ to unload?”
“Nope—wait for the tide.”
“Ye’ll jest about make it,” said Uncle William. He glanced at the sky. “I’ll come down and help ye clean, like enough, after supper.”
Andy climbed up in silence. His somber face appeared above the edge of the wharf. Uncle William looked down on it, smiling. “I’ve got good news for ye, Andy.”
“Huh?” Andy paused half way.
Uncle William nodded. “You’ll be reel tickled about it. I’m goin’ to have a new boat—right off.”
“Ye be?” Andy’s mouth remained open. It took in the sky and the bay and Uncle William’s smile.