"That's where I'll need you to stand. Help me set the sails, then to
your post, and keep your eyes wide open. Things might get a bit close.
We'll have to find our way out by dead reckoning."
Even as he spoke, the trailing mists that had seemed so harmless began
to thicken, and the wind to grow less. Soon the fog became a patching
curtain, then finally, a dense cloud.
Kneeling at the fore of the vessel, shivering with cold, Michael
strained all his senses for any sign of hidden rock looming up out of
the grey, or sound of crashing surf upon the shore. The cloud-wrack
above had at last cleared away, but the unbridled moon only served to
cast a ghostly aspect throughout the clinging shroud, so near,
ever-present, and menacing.
He fully realized the danger. Even with all the mariner's skill, to
sail in these waters half-blind..... He looked back to see him
standing by the wheel, with compass and lantern beside him, navigating
by instinct and memory alone. Framed by the mists, weathered but hale,
he formed a classic portrait of savvy and determination.
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