The wind died last night. Today has dawned
cloudless, flat calm and no wind. The ensign is stirred occasionally by a gentle waft of air form
the south, behind us. We launch the Parasailor in the vain hope that
its vast expanse of bright yellow lightweight fabric will capture
suffiecient breeze to generate some forward movement, and quickly take it down
again as it hangs impotently limp on its halyard. So, we are motoring with
180 NM to go to Bermuda. Michael is on the aft deck with two fishing rods
trolling deadly lures in the hopes of fresh fish for dinner. Shortly we will
start work on the flooded bow thruster compartment. As a consequence of the
calm seas there has been no further ingress of water into the anchor locker
and we now have an opportunity to investigate the failed sump pump which
seems to be the cause of the trouble and replace it - we have a
spare.
A notice was sent out yesterday, received by us
only this morning, that the skipper of a boat very close to us is ill with
vomiting and dehydration. They have called for assistance. Apparently a US coast
guard surgeon has diagnosed severe seas sickness with dehydration. They are
calling for assistance and, having cured Michael, I feel rather well qualified
to respond. The chances are that today's calm conditions will have done the
job but I will prepare to assist and call them up.
Log authored by
Peter