TromboneAl
Give me a museum and I'll fill it. (Picasso) Give me a forum ...
- Joined
- Jun 30, 2006
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Could you sailors check this first draft of part of a book? I want to check that I'm not writing anything stupid. It takes place in Key West. Thanks!
“Yeah, I remember. He came down here in February, said he wanted to sail around world. I was skeptical, because a lot of people think they want to do that, but they don’t have any business on a boat. He said he wanted to buy Miss Scuttlebutt, which someone was asking too much money for.” He sat up and looked behind him. “She was in a slip back there. I wasn’t willing to let the boat fall into incompetent hands, so I suggested we take her out together. ‘Fine with me,’ he said.” The Captain drained his beer and went below, returning with two more. He raised his eyebrows at Faith.
“I’m good,” she said.
“So, the next morning we get on the boat, one of the prettiest sloops you’ll ever see, but tough, too. I go to start up the engine, but he holds his finger up to the wind and says, ‘I don’t think we’ll need that.’ The boat was bow-in to the slip, and the breeze was coming from dead ahead. About five knots. So, he raises the sails and slips the lines—wouldn’t even let me help. I’m getting a little nervous, but he didn’t seem at all concerned. Quiet confidence. The boat slips back, the sails flapping. He turns the helm just right as the boat’s backing out of the slip. The guy even lights his cigarette as he’s doing this. As its moving, the boat is falling off from the wind, and just when I think we’re going to hit the cabin cruiser at the dock behind us, he pulls in the mainsheet and the jib sheet, spins the helm, the sails snap tight, and the boat makes headway. We were still in the marina, but I was no longer worried. He made the necessary tacks, and we were out into the channel.”
Faith finished her beer and picked up the next one. “He was showing off.”
“Yeah, that’s how I figure it. It was a risky move, stupid in a way. I’d always motor out in that situation, but damn, he did it with such confidence. I figured he was insulted when I suggested we sail together, like I’d insulted his skill, so it was like, ‘You think I’m a landlubber? Well, check this out.’”
“Did you ask him about his plans?”
“I did. While we were sailing he laid it out. Down to Panama, through the canal, then the southern route, past the Galapagos, the Marquesas, and Australia. He was going to cross the Indian Ocean, go past Madagascar, and around the Cape of Good Hope. Good plan.”
Thanks!
“Yeah, I remember. He came down here in February, said he wanted to sail around world. I was skeptical, because a lot of people think they want to do that, but they don’t have any business on a boat. He said he wanted to buy Miss Scuttlebutt, which someone was asking too much money for.” He sat up and looked behind him. “She was in a slip back there. I wasn’t willing to let the boat fall into incompetent hands, so I suggested we take her out together. ‘Fine with me,’ he said.” The Captain drained his beer and went below, returning with two more. He raised his eyebrows at Faith.
“I’m good,” she said.
“So, the next morning we get on the boat, one of the prettiest sloops you’ll ever see, but tough, too. I go to start up the engine, but he holds his finger up to the wind and says, ‘I don’t think we’ll need that.’ The boat was bow-in to the slip, and the breeze was coming from dead ahead. About five knots. So, he raises the sails and slips the lines—wouldn’t even let me help. I’m getting a little nervous, but he didn’t seem at all concerned. Quiet confidence. The boat slips back, the sails flapping. He turns the helm just right as the boat’s backing out of the slip. The guy even lights his cigarette as he’s doing this. As its moving, the boat is falling off from the wind, and just when I think we’re going to hit the cabin cruiser at the dock behind us, he pulls in the mainsheet and the jib sheet, spins the helm, the sails snap tight, and the boat makes headway. We were still in the marina, but I was no longer worried. He made the necessary tacks, and we were out into the channel.”
Faith finished her beer and picked up the next one. “He was showing off.”
“Yeah, that’s how I figure it. It was a risky move, stupid in a way. I’d always motor out in that situation, but damn, he did it with such confidence. I figured he was insulted when I suggested we sail together, like I’d insulted his skill, so it was like, ‘You think I’m a landlubber? Well, check this out.’”
“Did you ask him about his plans?”
“I did. While we were sailing he laid it out. Down to Panama, through the canal, then the southern route, past the Galapagos, the Marquesas, and Australia. He was going to cross the Indian Ocean, go past Madagascar, and around the Cape of Good Hope. Good plan.”
Thanks!
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