The Black Prince

Abstract

There is a dark patch in the sea just south of Kissing Point, about fifty yards off the foreshore of Cleveland Bay. It could be seaweed. It could be the shadow of a passinq cloud. When the tide takes the sea away from the shore, uncovering 
the rubbishy remains of cables, pieces of old iron, a huddle of rocks here and there; and when waving fingers of plant growth poke through the surface of the water - even then, it could be just seaweed. But it isn't. Someone gave it a name.