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English, 20.09.2020 03:01 Terrydactly

Paragraph 5. Below deck Scoot was listening to Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite Boys doing "Swingin' West," and singing along with them
while slicing leftover steak from last night's meal. They'd
grilled it on a small charcoal ring that was mounted outboard
on the starboard side at the stern, trailing sparks into the
water. The Sea Dog had every blessed thing, including a
barbecue pit, she marveled.
Paragraph 6. Scoot was learning how to be a deep-water sailor. She was
fourteen years old and pretty, with dark hair. Though small
in size, not even five feet, she was strong. She'd started off
with eight-foot Sabots. On this trip, her first aboard the Sea
Dog, she'd manned the wheel for most of the three days
they'd been under way. She'd stood four-hour watches at
night. Sully was a good teacher.
Paragraph 7. It was one of those perfect days to be out, Sully thought: the
three Dacron sails belayed and whispering, white bow waves
singing pleasant songs as the fiberglass hull, tilting to
starboard, sliced through the ocean. It was a day filled with
goodness, peace, and beauty. They'd come south as far as
Cabo Colnett, turning back north only an hour ago. They'd
sailed from Catalina Island's Avalon Harbor, the Sea Dog's
home port, out in the channel off Los Angeles. Sully had
borrowed the boat from a family friend, Beau Tucker, a
stockbroker with enough money to outfit it and maintain it
properly. Built by Ta-Shing, of Taiwan, she was heavy and
sturdy, with a teakwood deck and handsome teakwood
interior, and the latest in navigation equipment. Sully had
sailed her at least a dozen times. He'd been around boats,
motor and sail, for many of his nineteen years. He thought
the Old Sea Dog was the best, in her category, that he'd ever
piloted. Paragraph 8. As he was about to complete a northeast tack, Sully's
attention was drawn to a squadron of seagulls diving on
small fish about a hundred yards off the port bow, and he
did not see the giant wave that had crept up silently
behind the Sea Dog. But a split second before it lifted the
boat like a carpenter's chip, he sensed something behind
him and glanced backward, toward the towering wall of
shining water.

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Paragraph 5. Below deck Scoot was listening to Big Sandy & His Fly-Rite

Boys doing Swingin'

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