Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
I sat and thought of what we might do for heat. I started thinking about what we had on-
board that would provide some means of cooking. It was a great shame about the cabin
lamps as we had an abundance of paraffin. “Paraffin! Wait a minute! Stop the press! I think
I know what will work!” I yelled.
“Now what?” said Gavin lying idly on his bunk, his book on his chest, a Full Speed burning
dangerously low around his fingers.
“You'll burn your fingers like that,” I pointed out.
“What's the brilliant plan?” he said, exhaling his last drag.
“You know that old Tilley lamp, the hurricane lamp below in the navigation locker?”
“Yes, but that's all rusty and seized up,” he said pessimistically.
“Do you remember how hot it gets though? Remember how that green roof thing above
the glass chimney really gets hot? If we can somehow utilize that heat, we'll be in busi-
ness.” I was sure of it.
I stepped over to the locker, got down on my hands and knees, and started to unpack spare
books, and sailing boots, and spare sailing gear. I grasped a cold, metal lump and pulled
it out of the dark, damp cave. My heart sank as I gazed at its forlorn condition. The glass
chimney was broken; the chrome from the paraffin pot on the bottom was rusted through,
and I couldn't move the wire choke that controlled the amount of paraffin vapor. I was cer-
tain that there were holes through the base and that all the paraffin would leak out and cause
a fire. I shook it, annoyed, and it answered back with a liquid slosh. “Hey! There's paraffin
still in here! I thought it might be leaking.” I gave it a few more wild shakes and saw a
bright, wet stream of paraffin running down my hand. “Shit, it does have bloody holes in
it!” I said bitterly disappointed.
My temper flared up, “Christ, Murphy can't you just fucking leave us alone already! Do
you have to fuck up everything for us?”
I was about ready to hurl it down and smash it in my anger when Gavin suddenly yelled
out, “Don't smash it for Christ sakes; we may be able to repair it, man!”
“How?” I retorted hotly.
“I don't know, maybe soap or something.”
“This pot is under major pressure; soap will just be forced out, or it will melt from the
heat.”
“God, I don't know; what about some lead?”
