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Blue seas thunder against a surging black hull,
the sails above bellied full to the press of a quartering wind.
Each swell of deep water is met with a thud and powerful heave
as a sleek bow knifes its way ahead of the hunter.
For he comes on a long reach beneath a cloud of white sail, that
drives the might of the Royal Navy beneath it. Hunter, nemesis,
scourge of the wolves of the deep, with guns hunched in latent
violence below-decks.
But the wheel spins to a new trim of tall black sails, and then
the sparrow flies.
~.~
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