Tony Littlejohns - The Hoffmann Plague

Max set off slowly with his nose to the ground, following the scent. She stood there watching and just left him to it. After about ten yards he stopped and went still then looked back at Jane and she walked up to him. Just where he’d stopped there was a small opening under the mass of dense brambles, which she would probably have missed. Bending down and looking closely, she could see bits of fur stuck to some thorns and the ground beneath was smooth from the passage of many feet. She got up, patted and stroked Max, then reached into her pocket and gave him a treat.

‘Good boy, Max! Good boy!’ He whined quietly and wagged his tail.

Jane took off her pack and removed a snare and a stake. She pushed the stake firmly into the ground to one side of the opening, fixed the wire securely to it and laid the open noose across the hole with a few bits of grass over it. She pointed ahead and Max set off again with his nose down until he found another.

After searching around and laying eight snares Max was flagging, so she decided to head for home, praising him all the way. She watched him closely as he went back down the embankment, but he was okay. Her own leg was still sore from the shotgun wounds, although they had healed well.

Back at the house she parked in the garage and saw a remnant of thick carpet from the lounge. She thought it would be more comfortable for Max than the blanket on the kitchen’s tiled floor, so she looked around and found a Stanley knife in a tool box. She cut off three pieces big enough for him and took them with her into the bungalow with Max.

Jamie wasn’t back, but she realised she’d only been gone just over an hour and it was still only late morning. She took up Max’s blanket from the floor and replaced it with the three pieces of carpet, which made a nice cushioned bed for him, then put the blanket on top. He flopped down gratefully onto it then she gave him a couple of biscuits and stroked him. ‘Good boy, Max, you did great today!’ He whined and licked her hand.

She was a bit worried about Jamie. She knew he was a competent bloke, but couldn’t help being rather worried as anything could happen out on the sea. Their friendship had deepened over the last six days through spending all their time together, and far more so than would have happened back in their old life due to their circumstances. She found the binoculars and went next door and up to her bedroom. Raising the binoculars and scanning around, she saw him over to the left, quite a way out. He seemed to be okay and she breathed a sigh of relief then went back next door. She made a cup of tea then sat down on the sofa in the conservatory to rest her leg, and Max followed her in. He climbed up next to her, lying down with his head on her thigh, and within a few minutes she had dozed off.

That was how Jamie found them when he returned an hour or so later. Max heard the back door, looked up and barked, which woke Jane. She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

‘Hiya. Blimey, I didn’t intend to fall asleep! What’s the time?’

‘Nearly lunchtime, by my reckoning,’ he smiled. Jane got up to heat some water for coffee.

‘How did you get on?’ she enquired.

‘Not very well; all I got were these…’ he said with a wry smile, as he tipped the four fish out onto the worktop. Jane’s eyes lit up and she beamed at him, then gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek.

‘Oh wow! Jamie, that’s fantastic. Well done, you.’

‘Thanks, but I think it was more by luck than judgement! Sea fishing’s a complete mystery to me. I’ve no idea where to look or what I should be doing, really.’

‘Well, you must have done something right!’

‘I suppose so, but I don’t know if it will always be like that. It took me two hours to get these, and I didn’t start catching until I was a hundred yards out, maybe. I got all these in the last half-hour.’

‘I saw you: when I got back about an hour ago I was a bit worried, but I realised you’d only been out an hour or so. I took the binoculars up to my bedroom and saw you, which relieved me, so I came back down and then fell asleep. I was a bit nervous, though.’

‘You weren’t the only one! To be honest, I was a bit nervous myself. I know I was only a hundred yards out, but when you’re out there in a small boat it seems much further.’

Jane made coffee and they sat at the table, where Max came up to Jamie and nuzzled his leg, so he reached down and stroked his head.

‘So, I got four fish from two hours’ work. That’s going to be… what, ten meals? We’ll have a mackerel each, and the other two – I think they’re bass – will make about four meals each. That’s not bad for two hours’ fishing.’

‘It’s not bad at all. But, of course, we’ve got to be able to keep them, somehow. If we have the two mackerel now for lunch, and half a bass between us tonight, then we’ve got to preserve the other one-and-a-half for later. Even in this weather we can’t keep fish for several days without refrigeration.’

‘No, you’re right; not as they are. It’s time to try the smokers I made, but the fish will have to be salted and cured overnight first. I’m guessing that if the smoking works, then they might be good for a day or two; what d’you think?’

‘Sounds plausible, but I suppose, ultimately, we’ll have to go by our noses; if it smells bad, then it is bad. It’s all going to be trial and error, and if we’re in any doubt at all then we won’t eat it. We can’t risk getting food poisoning.’

‘Maybe I should smoke the half we have left over from tonight’s meal and see how it goes, and completely dry the other one? If that works, we can then re-hydrate it for use in casseroles.’

‘Okay. I’ll start preparing the mackerel for lunch while you prepare the others for salting. It does make me realise, though, that despite being next to the sea, eating fresh fish is going to be a relative luxury. I mean, it’s probably not going to be practical, is it, to go out every day to catch fish? And there’ll also be days when you don’t catch anything, or when it’s too rough to go out. So we’ll be limited to having fresh fish only on the days you go out and actually catch something. Anything else you catch will have to be smoked, dried, or pickled.’

‘Yes, I suppose so. God! There’s just so much to think about isn’t there? Stuff we never gave a second’s thought to in our old lives. We’ll have to develop a regime using a mixture of methods for all the meat we get. If we get fresh meat or fish on a particular day then we’ll have to eat some of it fresh that day, maybe smoke some of it for use within a day or two, and dry or preserve the rest for future meals.’ Jane agreed with him.

‘The other possibility,’ he went on, ‘is fishing from the beach with legered bait such as ragworm or bits of leftover fish, on days when it’s too rough to take the boat out. I’ve seen people doing it here for years, so it must work.’

‘Yes. And with rabbit and other game we can turn some of it into jerky for long-term keeping, and make terrines and other potted dishes for shorter-term use.’

‘I agree about the jerky, but I’m not sure now about terrines and potting the meat; for that we’d need fat such as lard or clarified butter to seal it – I read about it weeks ago in my preserving book.’

‘Okay, then maybe we can just use oil, and seal it in preserving jars, or similar? That must work, too? I mean, you always see speciality food like that on the shelves in the better supermarkets, don’t you?’

‘Yes, you’re probably right. The purpose of the fat on top is to exclude air from the meat, to stop it going bad. Oil will do the same job I suppose, but you can’t leave it exposed to air in the same way as, say, lard on top of terrines. I remember seeing it used in the book, though, for certain foods in preserving jars. Our problem will be having enough for the future, and any oil we get from the supermarkets will have a shelf life. After we’ve used it all, or it’s expired, what are we going to do then?’