Salt Water Flat
Sea's gone up full-sky mirror. Doldrums stretching all the way to the horizon. Two months fighting storm-driven, thrash-up swell and this morning, not a breath of puff in the sail. Abe’s still asleep in his bunk down below, cabin’s shuddering with the deep basso rumbling of his snores, old rattlebag. It’s not like him to sleep late but he needs as much rest as he can get if those hands are going to heal. I smothered the last of the Vaseline on them before I hit the rack but them rope burns take ages to come good.
