DAY 15 (Saturday 27th Nov)

While we had avoided a serious storm in the night, Saturday morning was worse and for the first time on the voyage we could sense real rain in the air.

Just to remind everyone they were still on the right boat, the day got off to a dreadful start. Captain K – looking to charge our batteries – had fired up the diesel engine, only for it to fizzle out like a deflating party balloon. When this happened approximately 10 times on the trot, we all exchanged nervous glances. What made it worse was that the skipper had gone very, very quiet. Not having a functioning engine in the middle of the Atlantic was in a group of calamities bracketed just below ‘hole in side of boat’.

The problem appeared to be that the engine was starved of fuel – despite us having enough on board to open a small Texaco service station. Colin and Captain K got to work, tweaking here and bleeding fuel lines there, but nothing seemed to work. The engine kept dribbling to a standstill. After a while it seemed clear that the engine was trying to feed off the main fuel tank (which was empty) instead of the reserve tank (which was full). Somewhere down the line there was an air lock.

Captain K decided to call Dave. “Who’s Dave?” we asked. “Dave Hill,” replied the skipper, failing to explain why calling a member of Slade was going to help us.

It turned out that Dave worked at Dartmouth marina services and knew a thing or two about boat engines - he had designed and installed the long distance fuel tanks on board the boat. “Sorry to bother you on a Saturday, Dave,” yelled the skipper down the satellite phone, as if he was calling a local plumber. 'Just wanted to check we're doing everything right with the extra tanks'.

Dave’s advice was simple: siphon or suck. 'It's a foul job,' he added. Colin argued that siphoning would be unnecessary hassle so volunteered to suck the fuel line, an act of heroism bettered only by his scaling of the mast.

While all this activity was going on down below, Kitkat and I were in the cockpit – getting thoroughly soaked. The rain had come. The engine is housed beneath the steps down to the saloon, so access to proper shelter was impossible while the boys worked on the fuel line. The auto helm cutting out in the middle of all this failed to cheer either of us up. No engine, rain and – albeit momentarily – heading in the wrong direction. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – you just can’t beat sailing.

A sharp retching sound signalled that Colin had sucked himself a gob full of diesel. We were in business.

With the foresails out and the wind fresh (often over 25 knots), we were making good time – although the rain seemed to be getting a little heavier.

At around 11am the rain eased off for about 10 minutes as we approached some rather odd  looking cloud formations. The wind became erratic: rising, dropping, swirling. And then it began to rain – properly. It was like rain from a different planet. It battered the sea flat, with gun-metal grey rivets that felt like sharpened hail on the skin. We were nose to wind – and had come to a virtual standstill, with only the engine giving us a vague sense of steerage. If this wasn’t a legendary mid-Atlantic squall, I’m not looking forward to being caught in a proper one.

Having spent the first 10 minutes of the downpour at the chart table, Captain K leapt forward, grabbed a bottle from the cockpit table and hollered: “Time for a German shampoo!” A fresh water shower was a luxury he wasn’t going to pass up. Colin (see picture) also took advantage. Fortunately visibility was down to about a hundred yards so there was no danger of complaints from other shipping.

From then on, it was a case of the calm after the (near) storm – which, incidentally had lasted about three hours. The wind dropped to a whisper and our speed followed suit.

We had turned the clocks back another two hours in the morning (to bring us into line with Antiguan time: GMT -4 hours). That meant we had supper as darkness fell as early as 5pm. Captain K had promised to cook - as a thank you to Colin for sucking the diesel. We dined on chilli - marinaded the old El Paso way (from the tin) - and rice. Fortified, by the second half of that peach crumble with extra lashings of Ambrosia custard, we each read or dozed the rest of the evening away.

RWD

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