Silk Skin

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by...

Masefield really had it right. Sometimes, all a man needs is a good ship, and time on the water. I leaned back on my elbows on the sun-warmed deck and closed my eyes, content. It was good to lay out here in the sun, listening to the symphony of wind and waves. Dinner — fish that I caught myself no more than half an hour before I cooked it — was nothing but a tasty memory now, and I was nursing a glass of really excellent Scotch that I'd picked up when I'd made port in Lochinver three days ago. The only thing missing was someone to share this with... which led my thoughts to Harry, and before I knew it, I'd managed to sour my own good mood. I sat up, tossed back the rest of the Scotch, and reached for the bottle for a refill.

Usually, I know better than to get drunk while at sea, especially since I was the only one on board. Manning a yacht can be hard work, even one as sweet as my Pursang. To do it without a crew is harder. To do it while drunk? Well, they have a name for idiots like that — the recently deceased. But the Pursang was at anchor, in a calm sea a few miles...