from Webb's sailing log....
1900 Even here only seventeen and a half degrees from the Equator, the after sunset wind is cool against my skin.
I pop up and down from sitting on the pipe berth to standing in the companionway. Our days are numbered. I’ve always known that. And my numbers must be short. I don’t know how many times I’ve watched the sun sink below the western horizon. Thousands. I’ve spent nine or ten years out here. I don't now how many more I will know. I cherish these remaining ocean days and nights.
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