"There's all kinds of fishing," I said.
"No, there isn't," he said. "There's all kinds of fish but only one kind of fishing. That's why I've been looking for you. How would you like to see what real fishing is?"
There had been a little bit of something that had gotten to me about this guy, so I said, "I'd like to see it."
He looked up from where he was making circles with the bottom of his beer glass. "Well, you can," he said. "And all you have to do for seeing it is to write about it."
"I only write what I want."
"You'll want to write about this."
"Because it's what you want to know about, the real thing. It's Tittle on his knees, the Pearl down a point with 10 seconds to go, Hull busting through at the blue line, Jackie Robinson dancing down the third-base line."
I began to wonder how in hell this young guy knew about Jackie Robinson on third but I said, "You know as much as I do," and he said, "Yeah, but I can't write."
We were going in the morning, early. I was told the boat was berthed in the Barnstable Marina and she was called the Sarah.