It wasn’t before long Libby had nodded off, lying on the thick cockpit cushions. Nigel had roused her and suggested a siesta down below. Feeling lethargic and sleepy after a fine lunch and a bottle and a half of champagne, Libby nearly agreed. The main cabin on the Swan was huge, and Libby had done a double take when she had first seen the size of the wide bed. Nigel was considerate and tender, but something made Libby waver. She asked herself, why not? It had been a long time since she had had a proper sexual relationship, and Jem was always telling her she was too picky, too choosy. ‘It’s about time you lived a little,’ Jem had said on more than one occasion. “And I know you won’t thank me for this, but it’s also time you got over your last disastrous affair.”
Libby knew Jem was right, but still she hesitated and put Nigel off with a laugh and a joke. She wanted to be quite sure this time. She had come out of a relationship feeling bruised and hurt far too many times. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy sex – she did, but all too often, she had gone out with men who wanted sex on their first date, and it was becoming tiresome. Libby did have some moral standards.
Libby’s introduction to Nigel’s yacht had taken place a month ago, and now they were seeing each other on a regular basis a couple of times a week. As far as Nigel was concerned – and he had told her on several occasions – he was serious. Libby kept quiet, feeling there was no rush. She wanted to be sure.
They were discreet in their dating – at Nigel’s insistence, as he loathed hospital gossip of any kind – and Libby agreed to go along with his wishes. A secret liaison held a certain sparkle, and Libby found herself caught up in the excitement of it all. They would make their relationship known when they were both ready.
~~~~~
That morning, when they arrived at the marina on the River Hamble, everything was hustle and bustle. Up and down the pontoons, scores of boat crews were checking sails, removing surplus weighty items and generally enjoying the mounting excitement before a big race. The rain had eased off, and a thin, watery sun was peeking between the thinning early-morning clouds.
Libby and Jem picked up their kit bags and made their way down to
Tourbillon’s
berth. The Swan 60 was a new design, sixty feet long with a large and well-protected cockpit. Her sea trials had shown superb race performance levels, and she was both comfortable and fast for cruising and offshore racing. Nigel had spared no expense when he purchased this sleek, sexy racing machine.
Tourbillon
lay snugly against her fendered berth. Her hull was a gleaming navy blue, polished only days before by the yacht service agents. Her mast stood tall and proud, towering above most of the other craft lying in their own berths. Her halliards were cleated off, and there was only the bare whisper of a ringing as metal struck metal. She looked fantastic, expensive and racy.
As Libby and Jem approached the boat, they espied a tanned Nigel standing on her deck, deep in discussion with another man dressed in white polo shirt and shorts. A blue emblem on his breast pocket portrayed the name of the yacht, and Jem gave Libby a nudge.
“By the look of things, I reckon he’ll be the navigator, don’t you?”
She didn’t have a chance to reply, as Nigel turned towards them at the sound of their footsteps on the wooden pontoon and raised a hand in greeting. When he caught sight of Libby, his smile broadened into one of admiration.
Libby returned his smile, relieved that despite her early start, she had spent some time over her appearance. Nigel was appreciative of her looks, and Libby knew by his high standards, he expected her to look gorgeous at any time, day or night. She sported a new haircut: mid-blonde, short and feathered at the ends. The hairstyle had cost her a lot more than usual, but she knew it suited her elfin face and emphasised her enormous brown eyes. After applying a little discreet lip gloss and a hint of eye shadow, she felt good and knew that Nigel welcomed her effort. He gave her a helping hand as she said with a laugh, “Permission to come aboard, Skip?”
“Libby, you look positively ravishing this morning. I love the new haircut by the way. Morning, Jem. Feeling fit? Hope you’re ready to grind those winches!”
“Thank you. Where shall we stow our stuff?” she asked.
“Anywhere below in one of the forward cabins will do. Grab yourself a coffee while you’re down there, I’m just going through racing tactics with Ian here. Do you know each other?”
Neither Jem nor Libby had seen him before and shook their heads before they said ‘hello’.
Ian was as stocky as Nigel was tall. He had a shock of startling red hair and a mass of freckles covering his pale face. He looked Libby over appreciatively when she turned to leave them and make her way below. He twisted back round to Nigel with a grin. “She’s a bit of a looker, isn’t she?”
~~~~~
Tourbillon
slipped her berth in good time before the race start. Once they had cleared the Hamble River, passing the moored boats along the riverside, they headed south-west down Southampton water and into the clearer waters beyond. The Swan had a deep keel, perfect for slicing through the water, but it meant that careful pilotage had to be maintained through the narrow channels of drifting shingle and sandbanks.
That day’s race was the biggest of its kind. Over 16,000 professional and amateur sailors were involved, with 1900 boat entries all vying for glory in their class. The race commenced at Cowes on the Isle of Wight and headed westwards through the challenging Needles channel, south towards St. Catherine's Point, and then back round to the finish line off the Royal Yacht Squadron yacht club in Cowes. The course was 63.3 miles long, and the monohull record stood at 3 hours, 53 minutes and 5 seconds. Nigel’s boat was entered along with 23 other boats of the same class, and he was very keen to do well.
Coffee and sandwiches were distributed among the boat crew as they idled to and fro off the Cowes waterfront. Literally hundreds of other craft had turned up to see the start of the race: family yachts, motor boats, ferries, and even a pleasure steamer or two.
Ten minutes before countdown, Nigel, at the helm, was frantic as he jostled for space between two other yachts in his class. The tension was palpable as the countdown begun. The warning guns were fired – three minutes, one minute…they were off!
The open-flat racing boats and the multi-hulls shot ahead, desperate to find clear water and get out of trouble. Libby heard shouting over on her left as she sat with her legs over the starboard side of the yacht. Turning to see what the noise was about, she was in time to see three boats collide with sickening force. She was horrified to see what looked like a brand spanking new yacht with a hole torn in its left side as another one thrashed around with half of its boom and rigging hanging in the sea. She shuddered, unable to believe what had just happened. That could so easily have been them if Nigel wasn’t such a good helmsman.
Tourbillon
tore along on a close-hauled starboard tack. Her sails filled, and she heeled over in the fresh wind, gaining speed as the crew settled down.
~~~~~
The race was on.
Tourbillon
had found a nice open stretch of water with Nigel’s friend and rival, Sebastian, about a quarter of a mile ahead off to their port side. They had rounded the north-west corner of the island without mishap, and the Needles were just ahead. Libby knew all about the Needles: a row of three distinctive stacks of chalk rising out of the sea. There was a buoy that marked ‘safe’ water, and Libby knew they had to keep this to port unless they wanted to run aground on the treacherous shingle bank. Many a ship had come to grief there.
Sebastian’s own Swan, ‘
Four Fine Winds’
was maintaining her speed and as Nigel urged his crew to tweak the sails, Libby felt the boat’s speed go up a notch as
Tourbillon
settled into her racing groove. Light spray caught Libby in the face, and she laughed in delight as the excitement of the race took hold of her. The yacht came off a wave and surged through the surf.
Four Fine Winds
would surely reach the Needles buoy and round it before
Tourbillon
, but Nigel was winding the boat up and putting on the pressure. Hearing Libby’s laugh, Nigel gave her a roguish grin and beckoned her over to stand near him.
“Morning, sweetie. Sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you yet. How are you doing?” he said, giving her a quick hug with one arm and snatching a surreptitious kiss.
“I’m fine, thanks. This is such fun and so exciting, I can’t remember the last time I was part of a race,” she said with a laugh. “I’m pleased to be here.”
“I’m glad I suggested it. Listen, we’ll make tonight special. I’ve got a huge surprise for you. Now, if only we can beat that bastard to the mark. Can you see him ahead? Where is he exactly?”
Libby moved over to the port side of the yacht to take a peek under the headsail. She knew there were only 100 metres to go before the buoy. Before she could get into position, there was a faint shout coming from their left. Libby heard the indistinct voice across the sea, and suddenly, she realised that someone was yelling, “Water! Water!” The other yacht wanted
Tourbillon
to give way to them.
Four Fine Winds
was bearing down on them at an alarming rate. In panic, Libby stood back up to attract Nigel’s attention and warn him of the sudden danger. His face was a picture of concentration and determination as he bawled at his crew, “Make ready the chute!” Three hefty crew were dragging the lightweight spinnaker along the deck, getting ready to hoist the sail as soon as they turned the corner. Libby scrambled to the other side of the deck as the wind freshened, and the boat heeled further over, the crew along the side sitting high above the water. She crabbed back to her original position practically on all fours while screaming a warning to Nigel as the shout came again.
This time there was no mistake. “Water!” and Nigel heard the terror in the voice. With a horrified look, he spun the wheel and the massive boom shot over to the other side of the boat.
There was a sickening crunch of metal upon flesh and the boat slewed over. Nigel was bellowing for assistance, the sails were flogging, and Libby was thrown into the water.
“Man overboard!” shouted Jem, rushing to the side and pointing at his stricken friend. Without waiting for an order, he grabbed a lifebuoy and jumped overboard to help her.
~~~~~
Nigel gave the command to slow the boat right down and turn into the wind. The crew released the sheets (ropes) allowing some wind to escape from the sails. A small group gathered on the side of the yacht, looking anxiously down into the turbulent sea, pointing to an unconscious Libby, supported by her lifejacket which had self-inflated. They could see Jem’s head and shoulders with the lifebuoy as he battled the short distance against the waves to where she lay, not moving.
As he reached her, a jubilant cry went up, and they shouted encouragement as Jem got the lifebuoy under her arms and manhandled her back towards where
Tourbillon
wallowed in the peaks and troughs of the swell, barely making way.
Four Fair Winds
was off to one side and Nigel and Sebastian were having a shouting match. While they were arguing about whose fault the near collision had been, Jem had managed to bring an unconscious Libby alongside, and with help from the other crew, they dragged her on board using a ‘man overboard’ sling.
Nigel was still at the helm, patently not trusting any of the crew to take over. He had his work cut out to avoid another collision as other yachts streamed past them. Ian came up from below and took in the scene.
“I’ve radioed a medical pan-pan,’ he said, looking grimly at Libby where she lay on the deck, water streaming from her. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”