at the tiller when she saw the pocket- nets lined up in the other boat. ‘I read somewhere that they were having trouble nesting, for the third year in a row,’ she added, wondering if she sounded like a resident of the Islands.
‘Yes, yes,’ said the man, clearly unimpressed. ‘It’s not a ban, just a recommendation. People can hunt puffins for their own consumption as long as they don’t affect the stock.’
‘Is that what those men are doing?’ she asked, pointing at the little boat about to overtake them.
Paddi the Hook waved at the three men, who lifted their hands in return. None of them smiled or showed any emotion. Thora watched Paddi at the helm as he stared out to sea. When they met him she had been relieved to see he still had both hands, since she’d been wondering why he had the nickname ‘Hook’. As they sailed past Heimaklettur Cliff they saw a young man sitting at the top, many metres above them. He was surrounded by dead puffins. At his side lay a pocket-net,and he had stuck a yellow flag into a grassy patch just behind him. Puffins were circling all around him. ‘What’s the flag for?’ asked Thora, expecting it to be some sort of security measure.
‘Puffins are curious by nature,’replied Paddi the Hook, after looking up to see what Thora was pointing at. ‘They want to see the flag, which makes it easier for the boy to catch them.’
‘Does he have a large family?’said Thora, surprised at the number of birds lying like felled saplings around the young hunter.
‘Lining up the dead birds like that calms the fear of the ones still flying around,’ replied Paddi, choosing to ignore Thora’s snide remark about the number of puffins.‘They don’t know what happened to their comrades so they think it’s safe to come near.’
Thora decided to stop asking about puffin hunting. She knew the man saw her as a typical city mouse who knew nothing about hunting and didn’t really have the right to comment. She knew how he felt; it really got on her nerves when foreign whaling activists protested against Icelanders hunting whales. She didn’t want to offend the skipper, so she settled for silently watching the boy on the cliff edge as he swept the net in wide arcs over his head. She smiled to herself when the puffin he had his eye on narrowly avoided capture and continued its ungainly flight. She was on the puffin’s side; there was something quite appealing about it, the clumsy little thing. The booklet Thora had read while waiting for Bella to get changed said that the puffin mated for life. In the autumn each member of the nesting pair went its own way, but the male would return several weeks ahead of the female. Thora was particularly impressed that the male used the time to clean the cave and make it presentable for his spouse. When their palace was fit for a queen, he would sit at the entrance and wait for his mate. She was equally struck by the fact that if the female did not come back the male took a new mate, who he kicked out immediately if the first one returned. ‘Are we going far?’ she asked as they entered open water.
‘If you want to catch anything we’ve got to go a bit farther out,’ said Paddi, scanning the horizon as if he expected leaping schools of fish to appear any second.
‘It doesn’t bother me if we don’t catch anything,’ chirped Bella. ‘I don’t eat fish. I think it’s disgusting.’ Thora turned to her and scowled meaningfully – they had to keep Paddi sweet, and that wasn’t the way to do it. Bella gave her a sharp look in return, but added: ‘I think puffin is absolutely delicious, though.’Thora breathed easier.
Paddi the Hook muttered something unintelligible and continued to scrutinize the calm water. They couldn’t have asked for better weather. The rays of the sun bounced off the shallow waves, creating a glittering sea of light.
Paddi stopped the boat just beyond Bjarnarey Island. On the tall, sheer cliff walls rising from the sea they could see the ropes that were used to clamber up to the grassy area at the top of the island, where there was a handsome hunting shed. Thora didn’t know what would induce her to climb up there. If she ever did go up, she would have to live there forever – she would never make it back down.‘Let’s try here,’ said the old sailor, wiping his hands on his tattered jeans. ‘We should be able to catch something.’ A gaggle of seagulls that had been hovering above the boat drifted down and settled on the sea, where they rocked in the waves. They were obviously hoping for a free lunch.
‘Well then, now the great hunt begins,’ said Paddi, and he showed them to the lower deck where several large, powerful rods were set up next to an open barrel. Paddi handed each of them their own leather belt with a holster for the rod, and helped them to fasten them. Luckily the belt just reached around Bella, who took all Paddi’s comments about it calmly, without blushing. He showed them how to position themselves before strapping on his own belt and taking his place next to them. ‘You’ve got to make sure you let the line go all the way to the bottom,’ he said, taking a pinch of snuff. ‘That’s where the fish are,’ he said, and watched them critically. Thora’s sunglasses had slipped down her nose, but she didn’t dare let go of the rod for fear that it would fall into the sea.
Thora silently prayed no fish would bite her hook, and tried to avoid letting her line sink all the way to the bottom as Paddi had recommended. This was difficult, as she had no idea where the line was located. For all she knew she could be scraping the bottom in the middle of a hungry school of fish. She looked back at Heimaey, where the new lava could be seen clearly. ‘That was quite a disaster,’ she said, directing her statement at Paddi.
‘You mean the eruption?’ he asked. His rod jerked slightly and he started to reel the line in.
‘Yes,’ said Thora, sweeping her rod clumsily over her shoulder and back out over the gunwale as Paddi had shown them. ‘Did you live here back then?’
‘Yes, I’ve lived here all my life,’ he answered, still reeling his line in. ‘It’s been great.’
Thora didn’t understand what he meant by this. ‘What did you take with you from home, in the evacuation?’ she asked curiously. What would a man like this choose to save? A fishing rod, or his favourite bottle of whisky?
‘I took my wife,’ replied Paddi, tautening his line. ‘And it was a good thing I did, because my house was one of the first to disappear beneath the lava. I would have had a tough time finding a new wife.’ He leaned into his line and turned the reel with enormous effort. Up came two haddock. Paddi removed the hooks and threw the wriggling fish into the barrel. Thora and Bella gawped at it as a knocking sound came from inside. They had both expected the man to knock the fish out, not let them die slowly. Paddi wiped his hands on a stained towel tied to the ladder rail and turned back to the women, who were still staring dumbly at the barrel. ‘You need to grip tighter,’ he said, and came over to them, whereupon they immediately made a feeble effort to perform correctly. ‘You don’t want me to do it all for you.’
Bella let out a shout as her line suddenly tautened. ‘I’ve got one!’ she yelled, as if she wanted the occupants of the hunting shed to hear them, hundreds of feet above. ‘What do I do?’ The old man went over to her. He was so bow- legged that the fish barrel would have fitted easily between his knees. He helped Bella reel in her catch; a redfish, so small it would barely make a canape. The seagulls cried out, excited now that something was happening.
‘Can’t we throw it back?’implored Thora. ‘It’s so tiny, poor thing.’ She pitied the poor fish, which dangled from the hook. ‘Is the wound too deep for it to live?’
‘No, no,’ said Paddi calmly, putting on rubber gloves. Thora recalled that redfish could be poisonous if they came into contact with an open wound. She had no idea where this poison was to be found on the fish, but judging by how carefully Paddi freed it from the hook, it must have been on its skin. He lifted the gaping fish.‘Should I let it go? It’s your call.’
Thora and Bella nodded in unison and watched happily as Paddi threw the fish overboard, but instead of darting away it just floated on its side. It seemed to be trying to swim with the fin that was poking up. ‘Why won’t it swim off?’ asked Thora, trying to remain calm. ‘Is it more injured than you thought?’ She was furious at the man.
‘Oh,’ said Paddi, unconcerned.‘It’s a deep-sea fish, and it fills with air when it comes up from the bottom. It can’t sink. I forgot about that. It would have been better off in the barrel.’
‘How could you not remember that?’ cried Thora.
‘I’m not in the habit of releasing my catch, dear lady,’ said Paddi grumpily. Thora wasn’t sure whether he was irritated with her or with himself.
