It was an elevator ride up the next following wave to surf on its face a little, settling into the peak with the stern dangling and the rudder barely able to hold course, the bow lifting high out of the water and it was a slide down the wave's back. The wind howled in the rigging, the tiny paired storm trysails on the forestay stretched taut with the sheets singing in tension. Water droplets were squeezed out of the synthetic rope to be swept away into the mist that was the tips of waves blowing past at forty to fifty knots. All day and the next night I fought to live, hoping to die, wishing I'd be killed then afraid I wouldn't. All it would take would be a slip over the rail and it'd be over before I knew it. For some reason I just couldn't do it, wouldn't allow the selfish desire to end the pain win over in the face of the storm.

The wind died down to a reasonable twenty-five knots in the early morning, Crystal still lunging in the swell but refusing, like her insane skipper, to give in and break. By noon the sun had come out from behind the front giving the smallest amount of delicious radiant heat in the chilly air and colder water spray. I'd lived through the worst I'd been in for twenty years and survived. Alone. It was time to change. The day wore on, the sun and moon came and set on the western horizon as I let the thoughts in my head run free, the tears run freer. The stars appeared brighter than normal for some reason.

Nights seem a good time to make decisions so I gave a turn on the autosteering vane and headed north towards calmer waters, looking at the stars overhead and wondering if it might be better if I just went over the rail instead. I needed the darkness that matched my mood so I spent the days asleep, sailing alone under the stars until three nights later I finally bothered to read the navigator and drew a course for the first time in a month. I was out of the Roaring Forties and in a week or so I should be able to make Perth. What would happen then was as nebulous as the wisps of cloud scudding in front of the moon in the night sky.

I hadn't died.

Damn the bad luck. ......(cont)