Turning, I saw little patches of ripples, darkening the water, spread slowly across the sea until the calm shiny areas were reduced to irregular strips on the new pattern of ruffled surface; then a faint breeze whispered in my ear and a breath of cool air caressed my naked back.
“Take in the awning,” I shouted joyously down to Bob; and swinging on to the main halyard, slid to the deck where the breeze stirring aloft was not yet felt. Life aboard exhilarated. Gerry was doing acrobatics descending the main rigging. Bob, with his credulous blue eyes wide open, and grinning from ear to ear for the first time in several days, worked furiously to clear the decks. Mattresses and pillows were tossed down the companionway.

Walking around below decks and seeing the names on the bunks and the pots in the galley and the nav station where Mike Quilter sat for days on end, makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.