The lone mariner. Alone at sea. In high seas, dark storms and on rocky shores. He has no team of sailors nor gadgetry to map his coordinates. No satellite phone. Nor, a ship with a huge mast. Just a little old ship. His years of sea torn wrinkles on a rugged face. The only luxury being a pair of soldier’s gum boots he used zealously from days of compulsory conscription in the territorial army.
