Ah, yes, Five Foot. How often she had heard fishermen speak of it. There, a mile from anywhere, the rocks rose within five feet of the surface. That was why it was Five Foot. Beneath this giant submerged boulder, a full quarter mile long, scaly monsters lurked.
“We’ll get ’em,” she thought.
Was it conscience that whispered, “Yield not to temptation!” Florence did not believe in conscience, at least, not too much. So Katie rowed on and Florence, watching a bank of beautiful blue and black clouds roll along the horizon, thought, “What a grand old world this is.”
“Soon be at the spar,” Katie broke into her day-dreams.
“Reef begins there.”
“Al-all right,” Florence gripped her rod. “I—I’m ready.
“But look!” she exclaimed. “The Lone Fisherman is gone.”
“Gone?” Katie seemed startled.
“Oh, no!” her face broadened into a smile. “Over there.”
It was true. Out some distance further, perhaps a mile, the same small boat circled and bobbed, bobbed and circled again.