“Ah lake thaaat”. “Kin yah play sume more...mah daddy played thaat way”.
The faceless voice loomed out of the night. I jumped, sending my guitar notes flying. “Kin ah come aboard and drink some beers with yah”?
Er, well OK, sort of, I ‘ve.. er..... got a big wash on the go said I lamely to the round white face staring at me from the darkness.
Well, he was as good as his word. He did have a few beers with me, that is to say he had about 10 beers in the 20 minutes he was onboard. Then after I gave him a shot of my finest Jura malt he had a violent fight. With an empty plastic water bottle which got in his way. Strong language was used, at full volume. Lights came on in neighbouring boats. I thought if I played again he might quieten down, but he accompanied every song by a flat out of tune howling that made even me seem melodious. Finally he staggered off and was swallowed into the darkness. The lights around me went off.
I saw the American the next morning. He was the single crewman (signed on via the internet) for a very chubby and not particularly sociable bloke who was doing the atlantic circuit on a boat berthed close to mine. God knows how they will get on. Perhaps their own particular demons will fight each other on the high seas.
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