Why a shotgun? Because, for close-up work, there is nothing else quite like a twelve-gauge pump gun. It is a compact and naturally pointing weapon. The pump action never fails. And as all cops will tell you—even if a person has never heard it before, they know exactly the sound of that pump action racking a shell into the chamber. It is a sound well worth the heeding, one that will often discourage a prowler or would-be antagonist.

Rather than buckshot or slugs, I keep mine loaded with number 2 shot, often called goose shot. The number 2 shot is devastating for the length of Miss Rosalie’s deck, but it won’t go flying away into a neighbor’s boat or through a body and into an unintended victim. The sound of a shotgun, being fired at close range, is horrific, and at night it belches out a truly impressive muzzle flash. A good shotgun, if not heeded as a deterrent, is a weapon that will put a rapid end to any heated exchange.

I was in luck. The store had in stock just what I was looking for, a straightforward, no-frills shotgun. It has an eight-round tubular magazine underneath its twenty-inch barrel. The barrel and receiver are clad in a weatherproof coating that protects it from water and salt air, and the synthetic stock is impervious to the elements. I also bought a butt stock shell holder for the shotgun, a couple of boxes of twelve-gauge shells, and some pistol ammo. As an afterthought, I picked up a nylon sling for the shotgun, in case I ever wanted to carry it slung over a shoulder during a trek ashore.

My purchases complete, I now headed back to the dock. The afternoon was wearing on, and the gray daylight was beginning to darken noticeably. In ten minutes I was back at the waterfront and gazing down on Miss Rosalie resting quietly at her tether.

To save myself some steps, I parked as closely as I could to the top of the boardwalk. I took my gun store purchases to the boat on my first trip so I could stow them away as soon as possible, then I hustled back to the car to get the groceries in. Near the top of the boardwalk I thought I heard a sound—something like a low whine, but as the rain was beginning to come down more heavily again, I gave my attention to the task at hand.

It took two more trips to get everything unloaded and dropped off in the galley. But first I would move the car back to the parking area under the trees and then put the food away in the pantry and the fridge. At the top of the walkway I heard that sound again. It was coming from somewhere beneath the boardwalk. I quickly parked the car and then came back to investigate.