THE INSECT Phil Gordon We had left Beveridge Reef, that invisible atoll in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, with the prospect of a modest trade wind wafting us gently but firmly towards Tonga. Blue sky, blue sea with small, very small, white-caps, flying fish and dolphins was what we had in mind. By the second day it was clear that our wish was not to be granted – the weather was deteriorating rapidly and before long it was blowing 35 knots with driving rain and a considerably increased sea state. Was this really the South Pacific, that ocean that we had sailed 10,000 miles to experience? The companionway door was closed to prevent the rain driving into the saloon, but the sliding hatch could be left open so I was able to stand in the dry with my head and shoulders outside and view the scene. And what a magnificent scene it was, exciting even. The seas directly on our stern were large and steep with frothy crests. As each one bore down on us it appeared certain that it would crash down on the counter. But no, every time Deliverance would lift her elegant bum and the sea would pass harmlessly underneath giving us a short burst of speed. Time and time again I watched this exhilarating performance. Jill’s watch and a time for me to catch up on some sleep. I rigged the lee cloth and climbed into bed. Jill was able to keep watch sitting on the chart table, from where she could see the compass and look out through the windows on the wild weather. I had not been stretched out for long when she announced that a strand of wire in the aft starboard lower was broken. “Are you sure?” – “I’m sure”. I lay there for a while
Deliverance approaching the Marquesas. Photo Mike Whibley
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