No one back in Gosport would believe for a barometer to read 1050. Actually, no one aboard Amistad believes it either, thing must be out of whack (technical term) by a bit. The center of such a high high if it existed must look like that whirlpool in the last Pirates…does look a bit ‘uphill’ in all directions. 

The younger crew (errrm…that would be all of them) have started making plans to name the kids they’re going to have before we get clear of this high. ‘Ten Fifty Bracken’ is first choice for Paul’s first born…hey, someone has to bring this ship into the UK for the 200th anniversary of the outlawing of the slave trade…who better? All directions for the last three days have meant endless expanses of calmness broken only by the occasional small cloud (type: cumulo wimpus). Wind such as it’s been barely earns the name, but that’s what the big H on the weather map means doesn’t it? Hole. Can’t motor north to better wind as we need the diesel for drinking. With magic and lots of expensive metal, plastic and ceramics we turn diesel and seawater into something very drinkable.  Alas, although it is saloon temperature it is merely H20. Looking forward to our first Ice Cold in Falmouth.

 

Love to my girls, Kent 

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