going good, your grandfather was foostering around the stove 
     
     about his socks and didn’t he upset the can of old lard all over the 
     
     top of the stove. I grabbed it quick to save some of the melted lard 
     
     for my lamp and then we had to get out because of the stink. That 
     
     was the first time we abandoned ship, so to speak, and we were out 
     
     long enough to realize it was getting colder.” 
     
    

    
     “That must have been a hell of a smell”, said l,”to drive you out 
     
     in the cold”. 
     
    

    
     “That was only the first time”, Uncle Billy said, “but that lard must 
     
     have been aging for about ten years. After a while we got back in 
     
     and settled down on the bedspring again. 
     
    

    
     Just when we were getting sleepy, Paine started complaining 
     
     about the fumes. We stuck our heads up and sniffed, ‘smell of 
     
     wool’ I said. ‘Hell’s bells!’ your grandfather shouted,‘ my socks!’ 
     
     and he grabbed the smouldering socks off the oven door and ran 
     
     out the door with them and beat them against the shingles. Out we 
     
     all go again” 
     
    

    
     I didn’t really think the smell of burning socks could drive anyone 
     
     outside on a night in November but it was Uncle Billy’s story, so 
     
     I shut up. He wasn’t above exaggerating a little in the interest of 
     
     making a better story. I remember him telling me about him and 
     
     my father and my uncle pulling nets he had out for hake. There 
     
     were five nets in all and the first time he told me about it they got 
     
     2200 pounds of hake, and later on it got to be 2400 and then 2600. 
     
     i asked my father how many pounds there were and he said,’a 
     
     lot’. Uncle Billy said the day after they landed their big catch in 
     
     Annandale, there were more boats out than you could count. My 
     
     father said he couldn’t confirm or deny. He was too stiff and sore to 
     
     go out of the house. 
     
    

    
     While the three castaways on Boughton Island are waiting 
     
     outside for the smell of burning socks to die down, l have another 
     
     of Uncle Billy’s stories. 
     
    

    
     “Kaddy and l were going to Georgetown in the pickup and l 
     
     stopped for a fellow I knew who was standing on the side of the 
     
     road. l told him to get in the cab, but he said he’d jump in the back 
     
     and to let him off at Frank at the Cottage down the road. Didn’t I 
     
     forget all about him, passed the place he wanted off, and when 
     
     I looked out the rear window of the cab, the truck was empty. I 
     
    
   
   
    
     forked the feet and wheeled around. When I went into Frank’s 
     
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