Run a Windward Spray

Chase the breakers out of the harbour before the customs boat appears. Strike the sails and tack to larboard then comes the old familiar fear. Will they run us, or will they gun us? Damn these sails, catch the wind. Spume and foam roll and spin us, forgive us Lord for we have sinned. Packed to the gunwales with contraband trying to make a dishonest living. Running close twixt rocks and strand, not only the sea is unforgiving. Soon we'll be in open water, run the mizzen, strike the main. Then, God willing, well outrun her and run a windward spray again.