For the rest of that summer we worked out of Brielle. I relished the work and puffed up with pride when we came through the inlet each evening with the boat sparkling clean, fish flags flying from the outriggers. In August, when a hurricane was approaching, we took the Bat up the Manasquan River and moored her in a protected creek. Two other sport-fishing boats and a Nantucket swordfish harpooner moored near us. That night, the other crews came aboard the Bat. Capt. Steve cooked up a lobster chowder, which we ate with hardtack biscuits and black coffee. The men talked about boats and fish, seaports, storms, and women, and I felt proud to be one of them, all brothers of the sea.