Title In the painted Sea
Word Count 100 (drabble)
His mouth was wide, roaring, his lungs brass. The boys had broken stroke when he surfaced beside the launch. They had handed him up, to drip at the tiller. Not enough. He had flinched, from the kindness in Bracegirdle's eyes.
“Mr Bowles is believed lost—with the others, Sir.” It were better John Bracegildle had struck him, knocked him bleeding to the deck.
“ Shove over, ” (Yes lad, the old man can pull an oar too. Just watch.)
He felt the sweat start, under his arms, his chest. His mouth moved silent, as he pulled: “Please, please.”