Storm clouds brewed out beyond the Keppel Islands and sent an ominous shiver down my spine.
Was tonight to be another night of howling winds, snapping ropes and screaming sails?
Looking out over our beloved Roslyn Bay Harbour I caught a glimpse of the Gypsy Queen.
As she got closer, she seemed to limp into the bay.
The poor old girl, her bough dipped as she slopped and swayed through crashing waves and gale force winds.
Close to home now, her belly seemed to sigh with relief as she swamped the bay and glided graciously to her moorings.
Her skipper cut the motors one last time and she heaved and hoed before finally coming to rest.
Deckies threw ropes and tied knots, double checking bilge pumps were pumping and the engines were greased.
Her decks slimy still from last night’s catch, the old Gypsy Queen was home and safe once more.
Anchors dropped, boat secured and deck scrubbed down, the crew hauled their catch and made for home before the storm smashed the Bay.
The skipper made his way to greet me.
Our locked gaze held us suspended for seconds in time.
As the storm hit, the wind banged our little crooked sign and caught his eye “An old fisherman lives here, with the catch of his life”.
“Aye indeed in he does” he said as he winked and slapped my derriere – “indeed he does.”