Those swells trudged in from the southern seas, obstinate, inexorable and...big. Every 11 seconds another one, under the quarter, lifted the boat 'out of my way! and carried on. Again and again. But those were not the threat.

Out to port, ones eyes searched the horizon reluctantly, where was it? the one with the different angle, the deadly one...the rogue! Its weapon was a geometrical alteration that carried it exactly perpendicular to boat, smashing directly into its side carrying away anything that wasn't structurally integral....and sometimes even that.

Yesterday, far from the southern seas, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, once again, huge swells chased Shearwater, now every 8 seconds, disappearing under her quarter and carrying on. And I, once again, searched the horizon reluctantly for those dreaded ghosts of the Indian Ocean.



NOTE: You might not believe this, but, with my back turned to the starboard side and literally as I was saving what today I had written, just such a 'rogue' hit Shearwater, pushing her sideways and releasing buckets of water down the open hatch above my head - GHOSTS?

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