“Port Lookout, Bridge.”
“Steady white light bearing red 45 Sir. Distance, far.”
“Seen. Thank you Port Lookout.”
9° 3′ 31.3272” S
101° 26′ 51.9144” E
With the motion of the ship moving through the water; listing and heaving, every passage and companion way altered between incline and decline. On a bad day, due to the list of the ship, you could walk on bulkheads. Thankfully today was not one of those days. Clear skies and a reasonably gentle metre and a half swell; from the fight deck you could see the horizon twelve miles distant. Small white caps, ambient temperature around 30 degrees centigrade, the occasional school of flying fish skimming across the water. Anywhere else and it would have been a beautiful day.
He felt as though he had been walking up and down hills since being shaken from his rack some thirty hours…
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