Night Moves

As I sit at the nav station Seaburban rushes headlong into the night. Below, there are only hints as to what is happening on deck.

You can hear the water sliding past the hull but it is a curious arrangement that is not altogether soothing. There are the bumps, slaps and bangs of the odd wave accompanied by the crack of a back-winded sail. It takes some getting used-to but they are the sounds of a small ship at work.

The moon is not near full but the nIght is not dark. Without sun, moon, or stars for days I had no good idea of where I was. Tonight, though, I had my pick and my position is not nearly so uncertain.

With only dead reckoning to rely on for position, I was sure I wasn’t about to run smack-dab into Antarctica. My sister’s son, Janner, however, wasn’t so sure. He asked that I be extra careful about not hitting Antarctica.

Janner likes to go sailing with me. Truth be told, he likes to dress up as a pirate, eye-patch and all, when he’s on the boat. I think he likes that more than sailing. He also has carte-blanche to rebel boarders any way he sees fit as well.

Bounding through the night, a bone in her teeth, Seaburban might well find Antarctica hidden just beyond the gloom, barely out of sight. But I promise Janner, I’ll do my best not to hit it.