pelagia #one

With feet dangling through the rails and swinging to the diesel's strum, you could see flying fish, four or five together, basking in  the sun. Caught in their slumber by the blunt bow they would franticly dart left, then right and on realisation there was no escape, they would break clear and glide 30 or 40 metres before plonking into the oily face of the next swell. Each takeoff left a sand dune snake track and on this peerless day, they were skipping, firing up their tails like old 2 strokes just before they hit the surface..... Brrraaaappp..... once, twice, three times, until they outran the boat.