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Thynne worked hard hacking at the boreholes that Tarn had made. It was easy enough work for a lad of his age, indeed, he had done this task many times before, but he was making sure that he was seen to be putting an effort into his work. He thought again how lucky he had been when he had returned from his disappearing act. His father had boxed his ears, but Tarn had done nothing but act coldly towards him, and this was how the man normally acted even if he was pleased. And yesterday, as they walked up to the ice sheet, he had even told him some stories, about great whale hunts and cold journeys in boats, about fights and bets he had won, and about the treasures he pulled from the seas. His father never told him tales, he was always too drunk. He had been impressed and wished he could have adventures such as those he heard about.
He had been given some new clothes, too. They were old, and had been worn by someone else, but like most things Tarn owned, they seemed to be of good quality. His new fur breeches were thick, and best of all, they were made of pelts from the white bears. He couldn’t wait for the other lads to see him wearing them.
The holes in the ice widened easily, and as he completed each one, Thynne felt compelled to peer in to look for fish. It was habit. This was how fish was caught in the depths of winter, particularly in the northern reaches of the bay, and Thynne had joined many hunts, although none had been with his father. His belly rumbled; he hadn’t eaten for a few hours, and wondered if he could get away with dropping a line and fish hook into one of the holes to catch himself some dinner.
Checking his pockets, he found some twine, but he had nothing which would serve as a hook. He looked towards Tarn, who was back with some of the Corsairs, listening to their chatter. He wondered if Tarn would have a hook, but then realised that he’d best not go and ask him. He might be pushing his luck. “No“, he thought, “I’d best leave things be.” Yet he still looked into the hole hopefully, watching the dark waters swirling beneath. He thought he could see a fish, and crouched down, in case it came in reach of his hand, but it turned out to be a piece of wood, strangely carved, and before he had a chance to catch it, the water swept it away. “It wasn’t edible anyway” he thought, standing up and hoping that there would soon be a break for something to eat.
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