321.1: As the sun set over the harbour, the lights of the city came on, one by one. (Part 1)
The Harbour As the sun set over the harbour, the lights of the city came on, one by one. I have been fishing out of Plymouth port for as long as I can remember. My dad was a fisherman, and his dad, all the way back nearly 500 years. We Moores have been fishing the channel since the time of serfs and peasants. And in all this time, we have remained what is essentially a serf or peasant. Always poor, always scraping by, always stuck on rusted, grimy, and smelly fishing skiffs that barely qualify as a boat. Over the many years, Plymouth has grown into the twinkling city I look at from the stern of my vessel. Much has changed over the years, yet much remains the same. Fishermen still tell stories of hearing bells ringing from the land of Lyonnesse and mermaids wreaking havoc on their ships. We all know the latter is an easy way to hide the shame of poor sailing abilities, but we seafaring folk are a prideful bunch, and mermaids make for a fine story to share over a pint at the pu...