A Chapter from Between the Devil and the Deep...

CHAPTER ONE

The boat lifts to the ten-foot wave, hesitates at the top with a flap of the mainsail, then dips as it slides down its back side into the trough. A shudder...water washing down the lee side from the foredeck, and then she lifts again. The movement is hypnotizing. I lie back and watch the stars swirl through the clouds in the night sky. Fifteen knots of wind from the southwest is on our starboard quarter. Things are going great. The Gulf Stream is just ahead and it looks as if we will have a gentle trip across this fickle river of water that lies off the East coast.

Just a few hours ago we were in the safety of the bay at Beaufort, North Carolina. Close to a hundred boats lay at anchor with us, all cruisers preparing for their voyages to the Virgins, Bermuda, Antigua, and all points south to escape the cold of winter. We had joined them in late October after traveling down the Chesapeake and the Intercoastal Waterway. The major topic of discussion among the captains on the docks was the weather.

“What do you think?” asks one.

“Dunno. The wind's to the north,” suggests another. “Might change soon,” hopes a third.

Our problems centered around crossing the Gulf Stream. It can kick up a mighty fuss if the wind blows hard from the north. None of us wanted to face a “fuss” so early in our cruise.

“I think Sunday will be a good day,” one skipper forecasts.

“Dunno, Monday might be better. Give the stream time to die down.”

“I've made this trip 18 times,” said another. “It's always bad and you're always on a port tack.”

“Maybe Monday,” I mentioned tentatively to Judy to see what her reaction would be. “Any time you think is good.”

That was not very helpful, because I did not know what would be a good time. What I really wanted was to have someone, a “Wizard,” tell me to go on such a date at such a time and to guarantee me a calm and safe voyage.

There were some who paid for such a wizard. They contracted a private weather service. We would gather around to look over their shoulders and ask them what the situation was. Waving their fax, they would say that today is definitely not a good day. We would all heave a sigh of relief

“What does it say about Monday?” I asked.

“Monday looks OK, but they recommend Sunday.” I felt disheartened because we could not leave on Sunday. We had yet to provision, so Monday would have to be the day.



The motion of the boat makes me drowsy and my head keeps dropping to my chest. The auto pilot is doing all the work. My mind drifts in rhythm with the motion of the boat.