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With a heavy heart, I made my way up to the bow and undid the tow rope as bid. Imme-
diately, Déjà vu presented her beam to the huge waves, and I could not believe the violent
rolling that ensued. How she was not rolled right over is beyond my ken. We all just hung
on for dear life in that black, wet, and frightening night as the boat heaved wildly in one of
the worst storms the Cape had seen in several years.
The Pearl was soon alongside us about twenty feet away and had some powerful spotlights
aimed on Déjà vu across the churning, black water. After numerous attempts, a small heav-
ing line came snaking out of the dark sky and landed across our stricken vessel. The ashen
and tired faces of Gavin and Mark struck home, and I felt ashamed of my foolish outbursts.
They had been wonderful companions and constantly willing and hard-working crew.
Mark was the first to tie the line about his waist, and with both thumbs up and a blast from
the Pearl's horn, he bravely jumped into the freezing, cold, Atlantic water and was imme-
diately hauled in. Gavin was next. I patted his shoulder and wished him good luck. I went
up to the bow again and cast out the remaining anchor with all its line, making sure that
the bitter end was secure. I then went down below and, turning on all the cabin lights and
radios, I looked about for the last time thinking that if she was to go down she would go in
style. I lashed the helm amidships, closed all the hatches, and said a little prayer for her.
The line snaked overhead, and I tied a granny knot about my waist. There are many fancy
knots at sea, but I knew the old granny wouldn't let me down, and I jumped into the freez-
ing water. It stung my face and limbs, forcing the air out of my lungs. Gasping in air, I
struck out toward the Pearl and felt the strong tug on the line as her crew hauled me over
and up her side.
Immediately after I collapsed on the deck, a large woolen blanket was thrown around my
wildly shivering body. I could hardly breathe from the cold, and my teeth chattered uncon-
trollably as I tried to thank the crew. I saw Gavin and Mark also wrapped in blankets and
shaking crazily. My first reaction was to burst into tears, and I'm not ashamed to say it felt
damn good. I cried for those of us aboard poor Déjà vu, for the bloody awful day we had
had, and for the sad turn of events. I cried for the loss of such a lovely boat and for the
gratitude that we all were feeling for having been rescued from such an ugly stormy sea.
We were helped into the warm interior of the launch, and a feeling of power and safety em-
anated below from the din of the two hot diesel engines bubbling beneath the soles of our
feet. Understanding crew handed us hot coffee laced with whiskey and lots of sugar, and
slowly our shivering abated, and my tears turned to embarrassment, for which I apologized.
The arrival of a rescue craft in Hermanus caused quite a stir, even at midnight. The journey
had taken approximately three hours and we were all cold, tired, and hungry. I was in a
daze. I had managed to lose my boat at sea. All those hard, fun-filled, wonderful years
