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We huddle around the old radio. Outside, the freak hurricane rages like an angry devil. No one one speaks. Even the children are unusually quiet.
Suddenly, the door of the bar opens and a few men come in, soaked to the bone. They are the crew of the last boat in. Every one cheers and clap them on the back until they realise something is wrong.
I know it. Jack is gone. Sleeping in the embrace of the sea he loved so much. Cruel mistress will never release him, leaving me with only the taste of salt in my tears.

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