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Arthur checked his watch. He had a meeting in Cabo in forty-eight hours, and at this rate, he’d arrive either three days late or at the bottom of the Pacific. Every time the Dog tipped past fifteen degrees, Arthur felt his stomach attempt a solo mission out of his throat.

Arthur looked out at the churning gray horizon. He wasn't thinking about the wine. He was just thinking about a world that stayed level. buy wesmar stabilizers

"Done," Arthur yelled. "I sent the inquiry. If we survive to port, they’re going in." Arthur checked his watch

"I told you, Artie," Miller shouted over the groan of the hull. "You want to cross the Gulf in a boat this narrow, you don't just hope for flat water. You prepare for the roll." Arthur looked out at the churning gray horizon

The salt spray was beginning to taste like missed opportunities. Arthur stood on the bridge of the Salty Dog , a 52-foot trawler that currently had the grace of a drunken toddler in a bounce house. Beside him, Captain Miller gripped the wheel, his knuckles white as the foam crashing over the bow.