The Beached Sailboat

The Beached Sailboat

The sailboat listed gently to one side, its hull pressed against the golden curve of the shore. No one came to claim it. It had arrived at dawn, gliding silently through the waves as if drawn to the sands by some unseen hand.

The villagers whispered about it, each spinning their own tale about piskies and pirates. Some said it had broken free of its moorings and got carried by a restless sea. Others imagined a solitary sailor abandoning it to the tides, a testament to a journey that had come to an end. Some said it carried the lost tin miners back to shore.

One boy, braver than the rest, dared to wade out to the vessel. He pressed his palm against the weathered wood and felt its stories beneath his fingertips; stories of tempests and calm seas, of hands that were once sheeting in and beating the wind. The boat seemed to breathe, exhaling its last adventure as it settled into the sand.

By dusk, the tide had risen, but the sailboat remained, a sentinel at the water’s edge. It was neither broken nor whole. Just there. And the boy, gazing at it one last time, understood: not every arrival demands an explanation. 

You can find prints of "Beached" in various sizes in the catalogue gallery or click here.