A Man Called Buck
By Lois Joy

From a distance, he appeared smallish and frail. But up close, I could see that he was lean and wiry. His taut skin was like leather, caused by years spent under the blazing sun. He was a little stooped over, perhaps from bending to enter the salon of his little yacht, Wind Gift. Its wooden hull appeared to be less than thirty feet long; I doubt that he could stand up straight inside. (More).