owlrigh

Night time was always been fraught with a certain air when we lived on Pampero II all those years ago. I'd lie in my bunk next to the galley and listen to the halyards banging against the mast and rigging when the wind was up. The bang, bang, bang of those lines weren't reassuring.

It was worse when I'd wake up to the high-pitched sound of the diesel engine starting. This was rarely good news; it meant that we were dragging or that my dad wasn't certain of the waters and thought the engine should go on -- just in case. So that high eeeeeeeeeee gave me a little nervousness, and somehow it was always to the dark that it would start, and my bed was next to the engine. My engine, now, has that same sound when starting or going off. It puts my teeth on edge.

My father always had this second sense when it came to the yacht. He still does. A droplet of rain and he'd be up to close all of the hatches. A small movement out of the ordinary and he'd be up to check the anchor. A change in wind and he'd be up. Somehow he always seems to sense other vessels coming in close proximity and is up to see that all is okay, shout at them, or otherwise fend them off, although this last part meant that he nearly died when we were in Ecuador.

( Dark, rain, sound, and wind. )