The deck rolled in the swell under Tremayne’s feet, the wind fresh on the port quarter
Cargo ships ploughed along the coast in steady procession. Their dark hulls low in the water, laden with whatever burdens they carried, they showed running lights only.
Last night a pleasure cruiser rounded the headland in the other direction. Coloured lanterns swung from the rigging, every porthole shone like a full moon. Carefree laughter floated on the onshore breeze.
Tremayne cast off. He swung the wheel, sails snapped taut, Blowzabella’s bows pointed to the blue wide horizon. Neither route was his way.
This is #13 in the ‘Beyond the Streets‘ sequence.
Audio narration available here.