“We are almost there”, said the thin man. A trifle unfair maybe, as on any other day he could have passed off as wiry. Jumping up from my perch, I walked across the length of the deck and stared at the land mass, just like all sea captains do, puffing out their chests and assuming that strategic conservative glimmer in the eyes.
“Land ahoy”, I muttered and marched off importantly, leaving wiry boy wondering why all tourists were consistently obnoxious. But it seemed like the right thing to say then.
