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waves flat. It was upon us suddenly, and the little boat cowered over to one side, cringing
at this onslaught like a locomotive engine crashing into her side.
Within seconds we were drenched and shivering. We moved around blindly trying to tie
down the loose and flogging sails on deck and retreated to the cockpit. I sheeted in the slack
of the main to stop the boom from slatting back and forth, putting the main sheet blocks
under terrible strain. The torrential downpour raged on for a good fifteen minutes or so, and
then gradually subsided into a drizzly cloud that filled our immediate world from horizon
to horizon. It felt good to be cold and alert again after so long in the close and stifling heat.
I sometimes wonder if it would be best to live in a too cold country or a too hot country. I
think a cold country would, in the long run, be better.
We went up on deck again and hauled up the genaker after untangling her various sheets;
I wanted to at least dry the sail before stowing it below. It immediately filled with the fair
wind that had returned after the squall and started towing us along. I asked Gavin if he
would take the helm and get us back on course, and I saw to setting the mainsail.
Within a short space of time we had Déjà vu ambling along on course, steering herself for
a change with the increase in wind strength, and making some four knots in a misty grey
and fairly flat ocean.
I changed into dry clothes and hung out my wet shorts in the rigging by tying them on with
a rope; I had lost too many clothes over the side. “We must change that genaker to the big
number one Genoa.” I said to Gavin.
“Aye aye, skipper.” He again retorted sarcastically, his face dark and sulky. Oh God, here
we go again, I thought to myself with annoyance. I've got to deal with his sensitivity again!
He would not understand that if I didn't take the lead and occasionally bark out orders, no
one would. One of us had to be the skipper. It was my boat, my dream, and my accomplish-
ment, and I was the skipper of this boat. I had agonized and paid the price of hard work,
a lot of hard-earned money, and several sacrifices to be sailing now on this ocean and in
this boat. I did not want to play the high-handed Captain Bligh with him or anyone for that
matter, but I knew from experience that one skipper per boat was vital. Tough times called
for tough measures, and in a stormy, action-packed, chaotic scenario we all get emotional
and nervous. Yes, I sometimes went over the edge and would yell and give orders, but I am
human. I was nervous sometimes; I was scared too, terrified even, and could not act ration-
ally under every condition.
I decided to ignore his remark and went around the boat, trimming sails, checking for slack
lines on the dinghy, and generally looking for signs of wear and tear. I was tightening up
the belaying lines on the dinghy when Gavin yelled out, “Hey! We've got a fish!”
