I lay in bed, upstairs in my float house, after climbing the ladder to the bedrooms, and watched the light sweep across the little window and then out to sea. Every now and then the foghorn would call me to the music of its mourning.
I pushed back the lovely white heavy duvet from my shoulders and tiptoed to the window, looking out at the waning moon and the Modge Bay lighthouse sweep-sweeping its lamps over the ocean, warning the ships off the bar. There was a tall ship I"d been told about that had steered too close to the shore and was wrecked with all hands on board lost, this was back in the 1800s before the lighthouse was erected.
Sad, the tales of the ocean, but brave and strong the sailors who loved it. My paternal grandfather had been one, a sailor from Denmark, a modern Viking w
