A boat that I was on had an old First Mate named Mr. Saint, a distinguished looking fella with a white beard who reminded me of Sean Connery and he had a 6' length of flexible line that he used to perform rope tricks. He would lay coils of the line on each forearm in certain patterns and then throw them up into the air and with a flourish of both hands and arms the rope would come down with whatever knot he had previously called in it. He had a repertoire of many knots that he tied this way and it was fascinating to watch.
Whenever we put into Galveston, we would all rush to the Bon Ton, the closest bar to the docks, and swill expensive Bud until sailing time. Mr. Saint would leave the docks in a cab shortly after, all spruced up in slacks, a blazer, and a turtleneck, to return in a cab before we sailed. One of the guys got curious enough about his excursions and followed him in another cab to find out what he was doing. What he found was that Mr. Saint was going to the largest hotel on the island and riding the elevators up and down until he found a woman that was ready for some action. While the rest of us were getting stupid on overpriced Bud, Mr. Saint was in a hotel room getting his bollard polished. He was a sly old sea dog.
If you can't make it precise make it adjustable.
[QUOTE=Crusty;141628]A boat that I was on had an old First Mate named Mr. Saint, a distinguished looking fella with a white beard who reminded me of Sean Connery and he had a 6' length of flexible line that he used to perform rope tricks.
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