"Uaah!" Pieter breathed.
"Pieter!" Marta said.
Ramsay listened, dazzled by the prospects of a fisherman's life as compared to any future a farmer might have. Determinedly Marta brought a huge dish of wheat cakes and sausage over and thumped it firmly down on the table.
"Eat!" she commanded.
The three gave all their attention to the food, and they did not speak while eating. Then Hans pushed his chair back.
"If I am going to fish again, I must start," he announced. "First I will go down and see if there is any salvage."
"We'll help you!" Pieter exclaimed. "My boat was not badly smashed. A little work and it will be good as new."
"Pieter!" Marta said. "You are not going fishing!"
"Now I ask you," Pieter said plaintively, "is helping a man pick up his own property, his very own property, is that fishing? Could anyone even think it was fishing? No. Come on."
The three left the kitchen and walked down to the lake. Calm after the storm that had raged across it, only little waves were washing in. Ramsay looked out at the rock, as though half expecting to see the Spray still there, and saw nothing. Pieter gave a triumphant little exclamation and waded into shallow water to pick up something that bobbed back and forth.