Alcohol was the scourge of mankind, and Ben had long ago made the pledge during a Sunday service. He tirelessly tried to convince his fellow fishermen of the evils of alcohol, but most ignored it or made fun of his zeal. Yet despite his teetotalism, he was in the pub once a week with his son Will, his nephew Luke, and old George Murray, who owned the coble they worked, to divide the shares. They were hardly the only fishermen here, and for many, counting out day was a great moment to treat themselves to a drink. Ben had no drink, but he had let Will keep a few pennies of his lad's share and the boy had bought himself a lemonade. 

When the Will had finished his drink, Ben rose to go and shook the hands of the other men and walked towards the exit. His son followed his example. But when Ben turned his head to look at Will, he saw something unpleasant at the far end of his pub and stopped in his tracks. "Will, go on home. I'll come in a bit," he said.