2021 Tempranillo

Outside the tempest raged and ravaged the ship's hull, thunder crashed shaking their very bones, bodies trembling, legs aching from bracing against the sea’s wrath. It could have been hours, days, minutes but felt like an eternity. Exhaustion was heavy, slumping down atop the cedar chest, everything was slick, wet, the leather bindings dark, brine thick on the air. Sailors gnawed and gnashed either cloves or tobacco to keep alert, the sharp, earthy scents mixing as they shouted quips and orders to one another. The storm settled and the ship no longer thrashed, the clanking of pots and pans predominated the night as Cook stewed dried figs, brandy and spices, stomachs rumbled reminiscent of the previous thunder.