THIS FINER SHADOW
CHAPTER I
The sea’s reaches moved blue and green from the western horizon to the Haitian coast. The small ship Verda disturbed the roll of water.
Martin gave the ship a little right wheel and she had her course, breaking the current. An offshore wind brought the jungle to him. He closed his eyes and felt its movement—the overcries of birds, animal musk and the heavy heat of clouds. There, facing the sun, lay a swan’s feather of beach shining up to the darker ridges. Oceanward, the sea bent into the brightest corner.
It was after supper. He knew the sailors were lounging on the poopdeck. Rio, naked to the waist, handsome, with his broken chest and heavy shoulders, would be telling the younger seamen of One Beer Annie and her electric finger. Martin looked at the clock and at the compass. He struck three bells and stepped away as his relief entered the wheelhouse.