It’s sailing time. The Royal Clipper is ready; she twists her lines. The giant ship is humming herself some low-octave song. A hum that comes from the wind? It might be that. Or sounds from a sail that’s not yet unfurled.
Ropes that seconds ago were asleep — coiled like boas in the deck’s hot sun — start spinning and unspooling. Passengers scatter. Sailors crank and pull. The captain moves to his wheel.
