When in unison our brains seemed to catch up and we all galloped to the front of the boat - still unsure why, but aware that our first priority was to retrieve the head sail from the water and to secure our floundering pole, currently flailing around above the deck now unstayed.

 

Several minutes later we had retrieved our sail but now the question - what had caused it to drop?

 

It must have been a problem with the rope that held the head sail up, but there was only one way to be sure... MIKEY - GET THE BOSUN'S CHAIR, YOUR GOING UP!

 

20 minutes later Mike looking down from the top of the rig (Southerly brochure worthy photos to follow once we are ashore), confirmed our suspicions. Not a rope failure, but a failed shackle. 

 

Within the hour a new shackle was installed, head sail re-hoisted and we were off again.

 

The rest of the morning went by without much event - late breakfast of chocolate porridge a la Minkey, Sunshine and solid boatspeed.

 

However, by early afternoon, Beryl our trusty autopilot who had been so ably navigating us that morning, became overcome by the confused seastate and building winds.

 

One thing for it - MIKEY....!!! TO THE HELM. 

 

And so began a marathon of helming long into the morning of Day 14. Very confused seas, a VERY narrow wind angle to keep our headsail set and avoid gybing. All in the midst of ever building winds and the darkest of nights, pushing Pea and her merry crew to the limit.

 

So as Day 13 concluded we were working hard but in good spirits. We can almost smell the Rum in St Lucia and mentally preparing ourselves for the final push for the line.