36:24:18N 43:21:18W
Boatannie
Sat 26 May 2012 16:33
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A Wild Night
The dome of the heavens totally obscured by cloud,
no glint of light beyond the wake of our little boat, save now for the faintest
glow that edges its way through that distant slot between sea and sky. It
clumsily emerges into view likea tax bill coming through the letter box at home
- you know soon enough it will land with a splat on your doormat.
The boat is washed from stem to stern by breaking
waves - the lonely watch keeper huddles his head beneath the spray hood canopy,
keeping his head dry if he can. The rig creaks in a force 7 wind, a small piece
of the Genoa freed from its roll to keep our heading and two reefs in the main.
The wind gusts to 40 knots and the boat sits up further, alert to the
change.
Over the next 20 minutes that tiny dim cluster of
lights on the horizon stretches and intensifies, crystallising into a brilliant
mast head star of dazzling intensity, followed on a taut tether by another on
the bridge, a Castor to its Pollux and now quite clearly the ruby red port hand
beacon below and the faint glow of the working lights and instruments on the
bridge. The vessel passes us to port about a mile and a half off. I imagine the
captain standing on his bridge and looking out to me in the darkness, looking
back to him and wondering what he is thinking.
Moments later his vessel is passing abeam of us on
a heading to I wonder where and already my interest in her is waning.
Thoughts about what and who she is carrying fade into the darkness. Next
time I glance at her her stern light is blinking behind us. Our study
little sail drawn boat continues on its way shrugging off the waves she
passes.
Peter
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