Fisher Jim: Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN Before I get back to the Coasties, I’d better explain what the geography is like once you’re free of the Fisher. Whitlock Bay is a funny one. Instead of facing east towards Portugal and Spain and countries where

Fisher Jim: Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN If you ever get round to visiting the Fisher, I’d recommend a trip to Kramer’s Neck. It’s gotta be the coolest stretch of land and water in the whole of the U.S.A. Sure, on the map it doesn’t

Fisher Jim: Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE “Permission to come aboard?” Pepper always asks that before she gets into someone else’s boat. “Permission granted.” Pepper plunked a Danforth anchor on the deck and a box on the forward seat. While she did what Da should

Fisher Jim: Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT “Really eaten by hogs? You mean chewed up and swallowed?” “That’s exactly what I mean,” Pepper switched over to her storytelling voice. “You see, three-hundred-odd years ago, there was a man named Smith living on the island. And

Fisher Jim: Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN “Hey, Jim! Like the new Lady?” There was only one shout on the Fisher that sounded like music. It was Pepper McGill. Pepper McGill is the most famous woman in the state. Since hitting thirteen, she’s been the

Fisher Jim: Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX There’s a certain rhythm to living near the ocean that most people don’t understand. You see it a lot with city slicks who come up for vacations. They push against everything. In the traffic, on the causeway, down

Fisher Jim: Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE I’ll tell you true, one of the funniest things I’ll ever hope to witness was the sight of Barrington Reds bowled over in his catboat. All you could see were the bottom of his pants. The sail was

Fisher Jim: Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR “You see anything?” “Nah. Stupid effing kid.” What with the swearing and the swishing, it took me a moment to remember where I was. Luckily, I had the good sense not to rock the Rita Anne. Judging by

Fisher Jim: Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE When I die, the last thing I wanna see through my bleary old eyes is the Great Marsh. I’ve told you I live on the Fisher River, but I don’t think I said where the Great Marsh is.

Fisher Jim: Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO The catbirds woke me up instead. We’ve got three catbirds in our ash tree. Da calls ‘em Larry, Moe, and Curly. I call ‘em Foghorn, Leghorn, and Bugle. They’re loud as sin this time of year. Granddad thinks