“Gulls, lots of gulls. Can’t you see them?”
Martin strained his eyes and with much effort he was able to see dark specks moving in the cloudy sky.
Evans looked at the sky, too. “Well, here we are,” he said, almost to himself.
They drew closer and closer to the rocks of the entrance.
“We’ll dock in about fifteen minutes,” said Evans. “We’ll be inside the harbor then anyway. You two go below and get the crew together. Remember we haven’t got a guardrail.”
“O.K., Skipper,” said Martin. He and Bervick went below to the galley. The crew was gathered about the galley table. They were talking casually of the williwaw and somewhat less casually of Duval.
“Let’s hit the deck,” said Martin. “We going to tie up soon. Stand by on the lines.”
The deckhands went out on deck; Martin and Bervick followed them.
Bervick took a deep breath. “When the weather’s good it’s really good here.”
“It’s appreciated anyway.” They watched the men move about the deck, uncoiling lines, arranging the lines for the landing.