Assateague Rum Runners
Published by Hogskull Press at Smashwords
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Cover: Microsoft Clip Art
He heard the schooner’s captain yelled for the crew to haul up the anchor and set a course toward the southeast before he had finished stowing the last case of scotch whiskey on top of the rum. His partner shifted the transmission into forward and gently increased gas to the engine. He was surprised at how rough and windy it was. In the thirty minutes it had taken to load the skiff, the wind speed had doubled and somehow the wave height had tripled. The Model-A engine labored and blew black smoke from the pump pipe that served as an exhaust as it slid down the backside of a wave. Keeping both hands tightly on the gunnel, he turned and looked for the schooner. A large wave hindered his view letting him see only the very top of the main mast. He jerked his head back to the bow looking for the beach. The wave in front made it impossible to even see the tops of the pine trees that were on the other side of the sand dunes. The rear wave passed under the skiff on its way to the beach. For the few seconds the skiff was on the wave’s crest. He had time to see the small group of people standing at edge of the sea. Then the skiff slid off of the crest on to the rear side of the wave.