Page 41 - Exile-ebook

40 AN EXILE OF THE MIND THE FLYING PRIEST OF CAMIGUIN 41

Navigating with a sextant in the South China Sea. Patrick, the youngest member of the crew.

numbing lethargy as they slumbered the hull was a constant reminder that pan. A mouthful of bones later this amongst this glut until he was forced
in their coffin bunks, cradle-rocked only two centimetres of fibreglass seafood was struck from the menu. to join us with our ration of tinned
to sleep by the tedium of constant separated body and soul from the The crew was still fussy at this early food and warm beer.
swaying. They came back to life one ocean deep. This was measured in stage of the journey. To save drinking water Steve
by one to find appetites denied us increments of trepidation because I Flying in an arc from the galley jumped off the stern to bathe, tied
since leaving land. Except for Nifty, couldn’t swim. A throw of the dice below, my brand new saucepan at the waist with a rope which was
of course, whose ravenous appetite with life and death tossed about in splashed into the sea. Nifty had used in turn attached to a winch. Dragged
never wavered. these latitudes of uncertainty. seawater to cook porridge where it under the waves by the boat’s speed,
The wind gathered strength, and Life aboard became routine with congealed and welded itself to the he nearly drowned in its wake. I put
we glided smoothfully fast out of sea legs at last found. Dangled astern pan. Assuming duties as cook, he was on the brakes by luffing into the wind
a placid sea. Waves danced at the for the entire trip, a fishing line using the only crew member who could to slow down. Steve finally surfaced
bow and hummed a chorus of sea different baits and lures was cast and stay below deck for hours without from his undersea bath, coughing
murmurings along the hull as we not a single fish hooked. Flying fish feeling green around the gills. and spluttering and dragged aboard.
glided again into a swaying sea of chose an ill-timed moment to leap There was a run on perishable This method worked better when
sparkling white threads. out of the sea into our sails and to food as ice turned to tepid water in washing clothes. They dried out as
The wave-drumming tempo on slide down flapping into the frying the icebox. Nifty was in his element stiff as a board and were very itchy to