The Rescue

Macky slowed the Sprinter down as we watched developments in the bay. Macky had poured on all the speed that Sprinter was capable of during our trip up the coast. He had us set all the sails, and we fired up Sprinter's big diesel engine as well. He throttled the engine down to a murmur, and we shortened sail, but did not take it all in, just in case the engine failed so close to the huge surf. The real drama was about to begin.

We all watched, spell bound, as Dart did her dance on the brink of oblivion. Finally I couldn't stand the stress any longer. I asked Macky if I could borrow his little "dingy" to row in to try to save Dart. He had no problem with the loan, but pleaded with me not to get killed in it. I asked Fitz if he would be willing go in with me, and to his credit, he jumped in next to me with out any hesitation. Fitz's ultra strong belief in God didn't hurt in this situation.

Fitz took the back seat, and I took the oars and started rowing into the chaos ahead. Since I was rowing, my back was toward the shore, and I was facing the incoming swells. They were beyond anything I had ever seen. Between the horizon and us I could see no more than three of the huge waves building as they approached the bay. By the time they reached the opening of the bay they were "feeling the bottom," and were rapidly growing in height and steepness. As a wave would come up behind us I had to stop rowing into the bay and back paddle to prevent the little boat from taking off and surfing down the face of the moving black mountain of water.

Each time one of the black glistening giants mounted behind us I held my breath as we rose skyward, as if on a giant elevator. Each time, the huge wave would pass harmlessly beneath us and go on its way to try to claim Dart. As we approached the "death zone" I could hardly believe my eyes. The sea went completely flat! There was not a single wave to be seen coming in. I didn't have to be invited, I bent to the oars and quickly pulled up next to a dripping wet Sea Dart. Water was dripping off of everything, including the top of the mast. She was so close to the breakers that she was taking the explosive spray from the huge compression tubes.

I handed Fitz the key to the supply locker on Dart and told him to quickly get aboard and break out one of the 600 foot nylon lines we had stored in the lazarette, just for such emergencies. I actually had 1800 feet of 3/4 inch line for deep anchorage, or riding to two or three anchors in storm situations. I guess this was about as much an emergency I could ever expect to see.

Fitz got out the line and attempted to pay it out as I held the end between my knees and rowed out toward Sprinter. He was only able to pay out about 50 feet when the coil became hopelessly tangled. He started to try to untangle it but I decided we didn't have the time to worry about it. The sea was still flat, but that couldn't be expected to last much longer. I told Fitz to cleat off the line and quickly get the plow anchor up, if he could break it lose. I expected it to be very deeply buried, but Fitz was pretty well charged with the energy of the situation. He managed to break it free and get it tied down on deck in what seemed only a few moments.

My heart was beating so hard I thought it would explode. I kept looking out to sea expecting the worst. Finally, I could see the first signs of the next train of super waves approaching. I told Fitz to grab the tiller and to just steer Dart after me while I rowed us out toward the opening of the bay. It seemed impossibly far to be able to tow Dart in the short time remaining to us. I held the rope by tightly squeezing it between my knees, while I rowed like a steam engine. I was amazed that the oars and oar locks didn't break under the strain.

It was now a deadly race. Would Dart or the waves reach the opening to the bay first. Every second took us closer, but the progress of the first of the waves was faster. If the wave caught us it would either shatter Darts steering gear when it drove Dart backward down the face of the wave, or if Fitz got her turned around, Dart would surf down the giant slope to Dart's and Fitz's destruction. My back and arms were screaming for rest but that was impossible. I couldn't let up for a second.

I could see that we were losing the race, and my heart was beginning to drop as I realized that I had to have Fitz abandon Dart so that he wouldn't take the wild ride that Dart would soon embark upon. I kept the line tightly clamped between my knees while I kept up my rapid stroke of the oars. I turned to look once more toward the sea, and to the left I saw Sprinter coming toward us with every bit of speed she was capable of. She once again had all sails set, and the engine was screaming at full throttle. Macky was headed right into the bay, almost certain suicide for Sprinter! As I watched, spell bound, I suddenly realized what Macky was doing. He was risking Sprinter, and his life, to try to save Dart!

I quit rowing and worked as much slack as I could out of the tangled line I quickly coiled it in my hands to attempt to throw it to Macky as he passed close by. He came in at what seemed lightning speed, headed right for me. Just as I thought he was going to run me down, he threw the helm hard over, let go the steering, and jumped toward the stern to receive the line as I threw it to him. I prayed that it would fly true and free, without any tangles. My prayer was answered, it was just long enough, and Macky grabbed it out of the air. In a flash he had it cleated down to Sprinters starboard stern cleat and jumped back to the helm. Whatever would happen now was out of my hands. Dart and Sprinter were locked together in a contest with the sea that could easily end in disaster to both of them.

I watched, slumped over the oars, as Sprinter started her breakneck climb up the towering face of the incoming sea. I was so fascinated, and horrified, at the spectacle that I almost forgot to row the dingy to keep her from starting to surf the steep wave face. About a hundred feet away, Sprinter, under full power, raced up the steepening wall of the sea and broke through the top of the giant wave, continued skyward until fully 3/4 of her length stood out above the top of the crest of the sea. It was incredibly exciting to watch in the opalescent moonlight. It looked as though Sprinter was going to launch right out of the sea! Suddenly gravity took over and Sprinter toppled over the top into the void on the other side and vanished from sight, including the very top of the mast!

I could hardly believe that a 36 foot boat could vanish only 100 feet away from me. And then I saw something that turned my heart to stone. The 3/4 inch line connecting Dart to sprinter was rapidly cutting down into the sea. The line was no longer parallel with the water but angled sharply down into it. Dart was going to be dragged under by Sprinter's much more powerful pull from the other side of the huge wave. For what seemed an eternity everything went into slow motion as Dart accelerated up the face of the sea, with the line singing to its enormous strain. The line stretched until it was a fraction of its normal 3/4 inch diameter. If it parted Dart was lost, and if it held the result could be the same. Time stood still.

I should have had more confidence in Dart's fantastic buoyancy. Dart's hull was very wide, and she had hard chines, adding to her buoyancy. She never even dipped her bow, but rushed up the face of the wave and tried to simulate her bigger sister in attempting to launch herself skyward from the top of the wave. And then it was over. The giant sea passed on by and expended itself in a thunderous roar ashore while Sprinter and Dart made their escape safely to sea. I bent to the oars and slowly followed to meet them in very deep, safe, water. My legs were shaking so much that it was fortunate that I had the time to recover.

We rafted Dart and Sprinter together for a while until I sorted out the ropes, and then Macky extended the loan of his little boat a little longer while I carried three anchors out in separate directions and anchored Dart in the center of a three spoked wheel in 500 feet of water. I had all 1800 feet of emergency line out, plus almost a thousand feet of other working line that Dart had. Virtually every foot of line on board Dart was out that night. I made quiet thanks for having the foresight to have shipped all that line down from Norfolk. It seemed a ridiculous amount of line at the time for such a small boat. I was very thankful for it now.

We thanked Macky for everything he had done, and risked, that night for us. It was difficult, since there are no words that can express the powerful feelings that are within us after such events. Finally, at around 3:00 AM, Macky took the dingy in tow and headed south toward Carlyle Bay, where he would see amazing destruction the next day from the giant surf.

Although Dart was dripping wet, below decks all was dry and provided a welcome sanctuary. It was 3:30 am when Fitz and I sat down together in silence after all that had happened. The booming of the giant seas was very loud in the darkness shoreward, and Dart still rose steeply to the huge seas, but all was safe for the night. I went out and hoisted a kerosene anchor light in the rigging so that we didn't get run down by a passing boat, being anchored so far offshore that night.

The next day would bring horrors of destruction to our eyes that made the rescue of Dart even more special and wonderful. The following morning the sea was full of pieces of buildings and boats of all descriptions. Some of the big ships down in Carlyle Bay were pushed ashore by the sea and required weeks of work to extract from the sands of the beach. We were very lucky as we didn't suffer any loss other than sleep. What was interesting too, was that where Dart had been anchored in Gibbs Bay was the accepted anchorage in the bay. The surf was so huge that the entire bay became a death zone for boats.

I learned one very big lesson in the event. Because I had removed Dart's little, well mounted, outboard engine, I didn't have it available to run Dart out of the Bay when I desperately needed it. I returned to the dock, finished up the Captain's boat, sailed it back up to Gibbs Bay and returned it to him. I was very glad to return all the borrowed gear to Dart, and never again risked her in that way. I didn't know it at the time, but that was just the beginning of many experiences that involved great risk to Dart, and to us, during our future voyages through the islands.

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