It all happened so quickly. Nate's mind had enough time to register "that's a lot of water, it's approaching so quickly." before he was fully immersed in it. He even managed to swallow more than a mouthful of Whitby harbour's finest briny. In the murk, Nate pondered if was this how it was to end for him, a tragic accident? Leaving his brother to gloat, Alice to be miserable, and young Miss Mason.. he hadn't yet given her an answer. She was winsome and willing.

No damn it! He thrust his legs out in an attempt to propel him to the surface. His lungs bursting, his head broke the chop like a cork. The crowd was roaring and cheering, somebody had won. He waved an arm toward the shore and shouted only to disappear again, dragged by the weight of his trousers. Another mouthful of the North Sea. He fought his way up again. This time, some helpful fishermen and a cockle were on hand to grab Nate's arms and keep him above the waves.

Nat didn't say much on the trip back to dry land, he just lay there enjoying the taste of oxygen, only vaguely attentive to the conversation of his rescuers. Something along the lines of: yer alright now.. hull of va crash that.. get sum rum in ye..