a fine passage

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.