Anne looked out across the water. "It wasn't so bad this morning..." said Anne miserably. It hadn't seemed too bad anymore in the morning the day Tom drowned, a cruel voice in her head reminded her. She turned back to her friend. "A lost day is lost pay."

Behind Anne, out on the water, little dots came into view, white against the dark sea. They grew into little boats that ran for the safety of the Whitby harbour.