Storms and shipwrecks

This morning I saw a shipwreck - or at least the aftermath of one.
It had been a wild, woolly night, with pouring rain, floods in some areas, and winds so strong that they knocked birds out of the trees. (Who'd want to be a bird? They must get so miserable.)
Anyway, for the past couple of weeks, down on our beach, there's been a yacht careened in a little cove. In other words, the owner has sailed it right up onto the sand, so he can work on the hull - last time I walked past he was stripping off some old paint, and patching the cracks between the wood. It's the old way of doing things. In 1770 Captain Cook had to careen the Endeavour after she hit the Great Barrier Reef, in the place where now you'll find Cooktown, should you ever be in the very farthest north of Australia.
So this yachtie has been working on his boat for a week or so. It's about 25 feet long, maybe more - a good solid yacht that looks like it's been around for a couple of decades. He worked alone - perhaps he lived on the yacht. He certainly looked like and old salt, with a grey beard and wiry legs. Most people pay to put their boats on the slips at the yacht club when they need fixing, but perhaps he couldn't afford it.
Big mistake.
This morning I walked on the beach again, and the boat was smashed into tiny fragments on the rocks. The cabin roof was embedded in the sand. Part of the mast was halfway up the hill. Bits of decking were splattered across the rocks, and pushed by the stormy sea right up against tree trunks.
The waves must have picked his yacht right up off the sand and smashed her against the rocks.
It was so sad. People were wandering around helplessly, wishing they could put her back together again, but that lovely old girl is nothing but firewood now.
May she rest in peace.