A seat in this boat was not unlike a seat upon a bucking bronco, and, by the same token, a bronco is not much smaller. The craft pranced and reared, and plunged like an animal. As each wave came, and she rose for it, she seemed like a horse making at a fence outrageously high. The manner of her scramble over these walls of water is a mystic thing, and, moreover, at the top of them were ordinarily these problems in white water, the foam racing down from the summit of each wave, requiring a new leap, and a leap from the air. Then, after scornfully bumping a crest, she would slide, and race, and splash down a long incline and arrive bobbing and nodding in front of the next menace.
--Stephen Crane
The picture for this writing--a small sailboat on the ocean climbing a large wave, shows a yacht tender securely fastened to the house (roof) of the sailboat.
The yacht tender is an El Toro sailboat identical to my sailboat Spray II.
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