the water, while rocks closer to land and not yet warmed and browned by the touch of sun stood black with the cold of night on them. At the feet of each was a white lacework of smashed sea. Out on the water, so far away that it was like being nowhere, and like being no one; where even Uncle Kepa wasn't big any more, they let the rope down with the bag of stones on it and began baiting their hooks. Mereana watched her sinker break the surface and felt it take her line deep down into the sea. Who would be first? She could see a few feet of line before it disappeared, and could feel a small tingling. A quick glance at Lizzie. Lizzie was looking into the water too. Wondering perhaps who would be first. Thinking perhaps about all the fish in all the sea in all the world … One of them will get on my line. I will pull it up quickly, and I will be first. Who would? Uncle Kepa was leaning forward with elbows on his knees. And gee. Uncle Kepa, he was asleep. What if a big fish got on Uncle's line and he didn't know. What if a shark came and bit the boat in half, who would save them. And if an albatross as big as the one in the museum came and took her and Lizzie away, who would fight it. Mereana forgot her line for the moment. ‘Lizzie, Uncle's asleep.’ But then Uncle's hand with the line in it shot up above his head. His eyes popped open and he began to pull in. Uncle was first. Mereana and Lizzie watched him bring in his tarakihi then went back to their fishing. ‘I got one. I got one Uncle. I got one Mereana.’ Lizzie's face was all red and she was zipping her line up. Now Lizzie had a fish and Mereana didn't. She could feel some little nibbles on her line but the fish kept going away and getting on Lizzie's and Uncle Kepa's. Perhaps she was on the wrong side. ‘Change seats Lizzie.’ But Lizzie wouldn't. She knew the good side. Lizzie used to be her best cousin and her best … Got one. ‘I got one Uncle. I got one Lizzie.’ Hand over hand, hand over hand. Watching in the water. Far down a shadow moving, coming closer. There was her fish. Nearly to the top. Waving in the water like a big shiny hand. Then, as the fish broke the surface her line went slack. The shadow that had been her fish was speeding back to the deep. ‘Never mind baby. Catch another one soon.’ And there was Lizzie who used to be her best friend pulling in another one. It didn't get away from Lizzie either. As she watched her own line go down again she saw a tear drop into the sea. Never mind. They were there again. Nibbling, pulling, snatching. And if only the boat would keep still for a while, or was it herself. Just her, going up and down up and down. The sun was above them now bouncing its heat at them from off the surface of the water. And the sea. The sea was rocking them from side to side. Up and back, up and back … Uncle had tied his line to a rowlock. He was taking some old crayfish out that he had brought for bait. ‘Waste of good crayfish,’ he was saying. ‘Waste giving it to the fish.’ He snapped the legs and began sucking the rotting flesh from them. Suck. Suck. ‘Waste of good crayfish for those fish down there. Waste of good kai, ne ra?’ Something was wrong with Mereana. Her stomach was all pinched up and she had no spit left. ‘Up and back, up and back,’ said the sea. The sun was going on and off and she could hear Uncle saying. ‘Put your head over baby. Put your head over,’ so she did. Her throat was stretching out wide. And there she was, sicking onto the sea. She watched the sick floating away like a little white nest on the water. But what was Uncle doing? Pulling in the anchor. ‘No Uncle.’ She wiped her mouth on the bottom of her dress. ‘No Uncle. I want to catch one. A fish. A fish Uncle.’ Letting it down. Letting the anchor down. ‘A little while, a little while,’ he was saying. Well that's good. That's all right. Her line tinkled and rang, then suddenly it swam away.