23 June Bugger!

No more extensions to our marina stay permitted. We have to leave today. It's not ideal weather with passing squalls and we suspect the prop has fouling because we've been here too long. The water in the marina is dirty with road water run off, boat yard chemicals & grey water, not good enough to dive and clean the hull but we have only to manoeuvre out of our berth and run 500m down the channel before reaching open water where we'll be able to switch to sail power. We're going to Iles des Saintes today.

David's on helm, the dock master releases our forward lines and I slip the aft ones and we're away. Slowly out into the channel; the prop's less effective than we anticipated and we're making 3 knots, half our usual speed under motor. Going down the channel the wind is picking up as a squall approaches so we pull out the mainsail to give us a wind assist.

As we're approaching the narrow exit out to open water which is marked with two reds to left and two greens to right indicating the reefs, when what you don't want to happen happens. David is on deck stowing the fenders and dock lines before we get into open water. I'm on helm. Suddenly in a strong gust of wind the mainsail halyard breaks and the sail slumps. The normally aerodynamic sail now has taken on the characteristics of an out of control parachute pulling us sideways to the starboard side of the channel.

A slumped sail is a disaster with in mast furling because you can't just drop it to reduce the windage. We have 26 knots of wind and rain on our port beam and reefs with breaking water to leeward. With the sail slumped on the boom, held within the mast, I see the wind is going to push us dangerously close to the reef to starboard.

Action mode! My judgement in these conditions was that we didn't have sufficient sea room or power to safely turn Jackster around within the markers and retreat back to the marina. I won't be able to turn the bow through the wind and turning the stern runs the risk of being pushed onto the rocks. We can only go forward and hope.

David furls the sail into the mast as much as possible and grabs sail ties and ropes to lash the rest to the boom to reduce windage. I'm on helm steering hard to port, just off the wind to maintain position and making a frightening 1 knot ahead. The rain's coming down hard. The wind's gusting over 25 knots. David's on deck grappling to lash the sail and we're slowly getting pushed toward the green marker and white water. There's a yacht coming in which sees we are in danger and turns around to give us room and, I think, standing by to assist if we go aground.

Gradually we ease out of the channel but there's very little distance, perhaps 50m, on our starboard side to the breaking waves. My knees are shaking. This is close, much too close. Once we have cleared the green marker we try a bit of headsail to gain more forward motion and this helps us to claw metre by metre clear of danger.

We may be out into deeper water but still not safe. The squall has passed, wind speed has dropped and our direction is now more favourable. We're making 3 knots, crabbing sideways. Our lee shore distance has increased to one mile. Now I can engage the autopilot and go forward to help David complete lashing the sail. He's got it stashed on the boom but has to go up the mast using the mast steps to stop the flogging on the mast and irreparably damaging the sail cloth. Once lashed this further reduces the uncontrolled windage. There are more shallow areas to negotiate before we are entirely clear of danger.

Finally we are under control. Shaken by the near miss, we could have lost Jackster. We came very close to it. The closest we've ever been to losing her. A friend once asked the question 'what's the most dangerous part of sailing? Land.

From the halyard snapping to sailing safely in the right direction has taken just over 40 minutes but it felt a lot longer. In the quiet I can now hear the French Coastguard on VHF 16 putting out a call, first to a catamaran which has dismasted north of Guadeloupe in the same squall and then for a ketch in difficulties south of Pointe-a-Pitre channel. That's us! We presume the yacht that stood by to help saw our problem and reported it. During the kerfuffle I wasn't listening to the radio and wouldn't have had time to answer it anyway. Now I do and can respond to them. I call the coastguard HQ who are located in Fort de France, Martinique to report our position, how many on board, that we are now safe and sailing to the Saints. We consider it is safer to sail on than to turn and motor back through the narrow entrance into the marina. In the Saints the mooring field is in the lee of the island and even with limited prop power we'll pick up a mooring.

Four hours later and we are safe on a mooring. Behind the island the wind was less than 5 knots and I helmed us in, David on the bow with the special boat hook that gets a line through a ring. Phew! Once we're secure I call coast guard HQ to report our arrival and to thank them for their watch.

Now we can assess what went wrong and what the remedial steps will be. The halyard parted at the point it goes over the pulley at the top of the mast probably due to age. David checked it less than a year ago when we put the new sail up and there was no sign of wear then. The two problems we have to solve are undoing the hasty untidy furling and dropping the sail and how to get a new line down the inside of the mast. We've done it before with cables to the anchor light and we'll do it again, but not tonight. It's not been a good day on Jackster, sunset is approaching and we've earned a large gin and tonic while we debate what we did right and what we could have done better, should it ever happen again. What doesn't kill you, make you stronger – according to the song!

sail lashed & sailing on

slumped part way down mast

chafed halyard