Day 22 - Derring do on the high seas
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Sun 12 Dec 2010 13:50
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Cue drumroll... dramatic orchestral music... grainy
black and white footage of a storm tossed ocean, patchworked with the shadow of
small clouds.
Centre screen, a small, white yacht lies under
heavily reefed main, being lobbed on a gigantic, cross swell. Zooming in, we see
frantic activity on board: splicing together mooring lines, bundling a small
form into package wrapped in tape.
Into the frame, right, and farther back, comes
another small boat, with a high coachroof and long bow, under a full press of
sail and flying the Red Ensign at the spreaders. As she comes within 200 yards
of the first boat, rising and falling on the long swell, her deck swarms with
people and she starts to lower the genoa... reef the main. Soon both boats are
crawling along, one behind the other at a similar pace.
Now, a surge from the percussion section: a package
attached to a buoy splashes into the sea astern of the leading boat as she
slides ahead at barely a knot. The package is reeled out on a long line until it
is almost level with the bow of the following boat.
What had seemed an almost Aubreyesque, warlike
scene, with a person waving some sort of weapon on the bow, is immediately
transformed into something that makes more sense: a man with a grim set
_expression_ of determination stoops over the pulpit with a boathook, fishing for
the buoy... which he misses... then scoops onboard.
The two boats are now joined by the line - one
false move could spell disaster... the lead boat pays out more ropeto avoid
taking the strain of the second. Then, with a flourish and a cheer, the boathook
wielder holds aloft the small package in triumph, dumping the buoy back into the
water.
Transfer complete.
As the lead boat hauls in 100m of line to regain
the float, the recipient turns for St Lucia, slowly, and spreads her wings,
flying more canvas. With words of heartfelt thanks crackling over the VHF,
promises of beer and chocolate, Honingpupp slides off to the west, followed
quickly by Summer Song.
In a somewhat less dramtic finish, the two boats
lie just 100 yards apart nearly two hours later, as summer Song claws back
barely 0.1 of a mile. By morning, Honingpupp is nowhere to be seen, having run
perhaps north or south, unseen without her lights. However, by their own
admission, the fuel filter should allow them to run the engine and cool the
fridge. The purpose of the exercise? Cool beers (and navigation lights) -
perfectly understandable...
The crew was understandably exhausted after this
manoeuvre, which also saw the Skipper hauled up the mast to reclaim the
spinnaker halyard, which had mysteriously detached from the spinnaker last week
in the dead of night. As Graham said, the mid Atlantic chapter of the Maharajah
of Spinnakah has doubled to two. It was pretty extraordinary gettng a birds eye
view of Summer Song, a tiny raft in a huge empty ocean - all viewed as the
masthead rocked through 60 degrees in the titanic, tricky swell.
In celebration, double rations of beer were served
at happy hour (a whole can a man!), before William set to making up another
excellent meal of packet risotto, which has proven a resounding success.
Culinary triumph was also tasted by the skipper's extraordinary 'tuna and squid
melt' at lunchtime. A recipe that may be unrepeatable, but went down well.
Finally, on the victualling front, homage must be paid to the fruitcake baked by
Mission Control, which has rightfully taken its place as the most highly prized
provision aboard. It has to be kept under lock and key in the skipper's safe,
where the mice can't get to it in the night.
Less than 500 miles to go now. If the wind holds
up, we'd expect to arrive during the night of Wednesday to Thursday (sorry
Tabitha!) Our French friends on Wanako have already arrived, courtesy of
excellent seamanship and their boat's proclivity to surf down waves at 10 knots
plus in only a couple of knots of wind - an unexpectedly useful attribute in
this ARC.
Summer Song has done her fair share of surfing,
although we've noted with concern the growth of some form of ocean going
livestock on the hull. Closely resembling a polyp, these little fleshy
attachments are impeding the speedo, which now always reads below 2 knots, and
carpet the after part of the hull. Once in St Lucia, a date with a high presure
washer beckons...
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