Page 8 - Exile-ebook

8 AN EXILE OF THE MIND CASTING OFF WITH A BANG 9

Casting off with a bang

An offer I couldn’t refuse. I’ll have that yacht please.
Dodging sunken reefs in the ‘perilous patch’.
Flopping around in seaweed.

ark shadows scudded grey all the way to the horizon on this
Dbreaking dawn Sunday and threatened to turn this special
day into a soggy sendoff. Clouds lingered dark and foreboding as
a gathering wind exhaled its ragged breath from China to drizzle
out its damp onto the bowed heads of a disgruntled crew and well
wishers huddled grey on the jetty. It didn’t look promising as the
crew hastily clambered aboard Le Voyageur.
Nifty, a short, wiry man with an elf-like face that belied his
temperament, had the vibrant energy of a small terrier dog,
impatient to be off despite the weather. The rest of the crew
muttered into the wind, not happy at the prospect of casting off
in the rough tangle of a choppy sea.
Large doses of adrenaline pumped through Nifty’s body as he
clutched at the rigging for dear life and swung onto the boat as
it see-sawed dangerously alongside the derelict jetty that once
cradled bat-winged junks long ago.
An eerie tune thrummed through long-stringed shrouds, twang-
taut to brace the mast as Le Voyageur tugged in protest at her
leash. Barnacles clutched at the jetty timbers, scraping the boat’s
hull as she danced her mariners’ jig in the churning harbour.
After weeks of waiting for a break in the weather we could wait no
longer. It was February, the month before the monsoons. I yelled to
the crew to prepare for cast off. My words, plucked by the wind and

Le Voyageur lying at anchor in Hong Kong.