Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Being the skipper and owner, I was responsible for all our safety, and I suggested we put on
life jackets and safety harnesses. I also thought it prudent to notify the National Sea Rescue
Institute by radio, which in retrospect was the smartest move I made that day.
The commanding officer immediately replied and asked for our position, which I attempted
to give, downplaying the gravity of our predicament.“We are coming out to get you,” he
replied. “There's a big storm predicted, and if you are anywhere near where you say you
are, you're in serious danger. We will keep in radio contact, but look out for us, and get
some red distress flares ready. Keep your radio on; we should be there in about an hour or
so.”
“Roger that,” I replied, trying to sound more confident and assured than I really was. As
this latest bit of intelligence echoed about the damp cabin, the wind continued to whine
higher in pitch, and the rushing waves were now much louder and bolder, bursting against
the hull with chilling force. I did not like it and noticed the others looking at me for assur-
ance.
I offered them a weak smile. “Gavin, can you grab the red flare tin next to your bunk,
please?” I relieved Mark, who was at the helm, attempting to keep Déjà vu on a course
away from the shore, which was only about a mile or two astern. There was no sign of
the sun; there was only a stormy, windswept, grey sky now, and visibility was becoming
fuzzy; it was difficult to see horizon or land. Coffee was attempted again, and this time a
strong cup of sweet, condensed-milky, instant java was handed out to us. Never had this
sweet-smelling stuff been more welcome, and our spirits were buoyed somewhat from the
hot liquid.
The mainsail needed to be reefed down considerably as the sheer size was overpowering
the vessel, and I beckoned Mark to help me as Gavin took the helm. Just then a huge rogue
wave broke over the coach house, soaking us, and halting Déjà vu's forward motion. She
heeled over alarmingly, and I yelled out in fear, “Let's get the bloody main down, and get
her nose into the wind!”
Déjà vu had a shallow keel with two steel plates alongside forming a tripod, or a “bilge
keeler” in sailing terms. This was a useful feature in a high tidal area where a boat might
find herself high and dry yet remain perfectly level. However, as we were finding out,
the shallowness of the keels made for a tender boat with poor windward performance.
Worse still, our ten-horse-power diesel engine was no match for these gathering seas, and
we struggled vainly against the lee shore.
Déjà vu was crashing about, and any item down below that was not properly stowed was
rolling, crashing, smashing, or damaging her interior. I hurriedly peered below and was dis-
mayed to see such a frightful mess accumulating, almost malevolently it would seem. I was
