The lights of a southbound ship hove into view to starboard, making me wonder if we might be too far west. The ship was moving quickly and soon was out of sight on its way to the open sea. I checked the compass again. 353 Night on the water is unlike night ashore. When the moon and stars are hidden by thick clouds, darkness closes in like a winter sea closes over a sinking ship, pouring in through every opening where once was light, extinguishing each glimmer like water extinguishes a candle s flame, snuffing out all vision till there is nothing but blackness through which only imagination can see.
Eyes are useless.
All that could be seen was the round card under its glass dome, crimson-tinted markings round its edge, the lubbers line holding at 353 . Steady at the wheel. Not too much to the right. Not too much to the left. Straight ahead and hope the magnetic field around the binnacle doesn t shift before we reach our hoped for destination.