The harbor lay still and silent as the sound of the oars slide out from the portholes and dig into the surface of the water. They pry the ship away from the dock and the crew’s faces change almost immediately with the sudden realization that the future is once again unknown. The ship makes its’ way to the middle of the bay as crew make ready the sails.
As the ship passes the watch towers, both a red and white signal flags are raised, alerting all that the ship is cleared to pass. The ship reaches the end of the harbor and a trade wind along the coast starts gently, without gusts – a huge current of air that slowly begins to move with ever increasing strength as the ship peaks out from the cliffs and stone walls. Suddenly everything comes to life. Spirits rise as the sails fill, the boat heels slightly and moves faster ahead. The crew moves feverishly, tying off lines and setting rigging.
The almost oppressive silence gives way to the sound of the bow cutting through the water. Gone is the sea’s glassy surface, and with it the terrible mornings glare. You hear the Captain cry out, “Close off the hatches and ports, we are home again, bring me the horizon!”