A day with white tops on the grey waves. A day of no horizons. A woman came out of one house and disappeared into the next. In the field a horse chewed grass. Herring gulls circled. Three miles out at sea it lashed rain. The rain was to come, dragging itself behind a trawler returning to port. The trawler was just a speck, growing, until it was recognisable as a boat to the naked eye. And then, as the stoves were being lit, the trawler disappeared, taking with it five men, drowning their lives in the sludge of the past.