an hour at a time at the helm. We were devastated by the ferocity, appalled that our living space had been invaded. It was as though up to that time we had an unspoken agreement. We will put up with what comes, but leave our refuge below inviolate. It was a night out of Hell when we seemed to have been forsaken --- lost in muttering, screaming seas. "You wanted to know what the Roaring Forties were like didn't you? Well, now you know!"

5^th June (2^nd 5^th of June because we have now crossed the Date Line)

At dawn I crept into the aft cabin bunk, the only dry sleeping place on the boat. Later, as I was rising to relieve Michael there came an unmistakable roar from outside. I grabbed hold just as another huge wave slammed into the boat. Again water funneled down the four dorades, re-soaking the main saloon! Not again! I grabbed towels to push into the dorades to stop water slopping from the cockpit, but my efforts seemed pathetic. The last wave had taken out the other aft curtain.

The wind was blowing WSW at 35-40 knots. We steered northeast. The low that had seemed an insignificant kink in the isobar on the 4^th had quickly grown and intensified to a 959mb depression. Added to that were the confused sea conditions, the combined effect of the Kermadec Trench which dropped to the abysmal depth of 8,000M 180 miles off shore, and shoaling caused by sea-mounts rising near the surface in 100 miles offshore in the Bay of Plenty. Add to that seas traveling from the south along one side of East Cape, converging with seas traveling west out of the Bay of Plenty, and you have TROUBLE. We seem to have sailed into the middle of it!

With the curtains broached, the roaring night was only an arm's length away. As I huddled wet and cold, the wind screaming in my ears, I reflected on how arrogant is man to attempt to cross that boundary between land and sea!

6^th of June
It was only a moderately awful day. Michael climbed on deck and between showers of sea spray managed to seal up all the dorade-ventilators using stout plastic honey containers from the galley and Sikaflex mastic. Below, we lit the kerosene heater to begin the long process of drying out the bedding, cushions, cat, carpet and heavy clothing.

7^th June
More strong winds were forecast, but sodden and dispirited as we already were, we hoped to avoid the worst by sailing more to the north.

8^th June
We had sailed into light airs at last. By the time I rose for breakfast Michael had dragged out blankets, pillows, the carpet and even the dirty laundry to air on deck. We felt enormously relieved to get the interior a bit drier, although it would take many days.

9^th June
A second fine day followed in which we continued to dry out and clean up. That evening, Radio Russell had a warning for us. "Keep going east as fast as you can --- but I don't think you out run the front!"

Without intending to, we had diverged from our original plan to sail westward along the 35°S - 37°S latitude line. To escape a drubbing we had sailed north, found some warmer weather and still had following winds. The whole point of keeping to the south was to stay in the westerly wind belt, but it seemed to have followed us north!
 
We prepared Sea Quest for another blow, hanking on the No. 2 jib and removing the staysail to the sail locker. He set the

Tere in sling preparing a meal at sea with Mizzen, the ship's cat looking on hopefully.

A new day begins at sea.

Spreading the contents of the
Main cabin to dry after inundation by a wave.

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