Travel Reference
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be manned during the entire tow, and we took turns steering. This was becoming increas-
ingly difficult now as the wind had increased in speed and created large running swells.
Déjà vu was careening down the face of these mountainous waves, and the acceleration
was dangerous and very frightening. Hanging on to the lively tiller was becoming almost
impossible, and the boat was virtually out of control. We were being towed at about eight
knots, and when she sped down the face of these large angry, black waves with white,
foaming crests, she yawed wildly about and sped up around fifteen knots or so. I was very
afraid that her bow might sink in, and we would be pitchpoled forward with disastrous res-
ults.
The radio broke from the gloomy cabin, “Déjà vu, do you copy?”
“Roger,” I replied, scrambling down below. “How's it going?” I asked fearfully.
“Déjà vu, it's not too good; I'm afraid we are still a long way from Hermanus. It's getting
late; we've just received an update from the weather bureau: things are expected to worsen
quite a lot, and frankly we aren't making much progress. I'm afraid we have only one
choice, and that is to abandon your boat and run for Hermanus.”
I sat in silent disbelief as the words sunk in. I was to abandon this beautiful yacht that I had
built with my bare hands. The four years of sweat and toil were to be abandoned to the first
storm Déjà vu encountered. Not bloody likely. I clenched the mic, “Pearl van Riet, I copy
what you are saying, and I appreciate the situation; however, I don't intend leaving my boat
here under any circumstances. I think my two crew would be happy going with you, but
I will take my chances.” I could just see the crew of the Pearl raising their eyebrows and
saying, “Oh God, he's going to go down with his boat.” Well, that was how I felt, and I
was going to stick to it. I was too exhausted to make any rational decisions. Actually, we
all were.
“Déjà vu, we are going to cease towing and will come alongside your vessel to throw you a
line to attach to your waists. Tie a knot of your own choice, and on the signal, jump into the
water, and we will haul you over. Please cast the towing rope adrift.” I started to disagree
with him, but both Gavin and Mark turned on me in tired anger and vented their feelings.
My head was swimming with confusion. I too was angry and yelled back at them, “This is
my damn boat! I built it, and I am going to stay on-board! I'll be alright for Christ's sake!”
I think the NSRI skipper cleared my head when he firmly stated that he and his crew had
risked their lives and their boat to come out in this storm to save our lives, not our boat. It
was getting late; they were also tired and hungry, and it was the only option. He sounded
quite irritable.
