I went back over the side, this time with a couple of screws and a metal plate I'd scavenged from a horseshoe clamp. I hoped to screw the plate tight against the partial bolt. Brian stood by to hand me any needed tools � or affect a rescue. "You know," I slobbered around the mouth piece of the snorkel, "it doesn't feel so cold once you get used to it. Is that a bad sign, you think?" "What?" Brian crinkled his brow trying to decipher the garbled sounds I was emitting. "Never mind," I took several rapid breaths and submerged myself again.
It took three tries, coming up for air in between, but I got the plate fixed in place. It took three tries but by the end I could see that this wasn't going to work. It took a few minutes on deck with the pair of MRE heaters pressed beneath my arms and to my chest before I could talk about what to do next. "W-wake Eric u-up," I stuttered, "we're going to need him."
It may seem surprising that Eric had been asleep through all of this but our operation had been neither overtly loud nor alarmed. He was surprised to learn that we had no steerage. To his credit he apprehended the gravity of the situation. There was no cursing as he dragged himself out of bed just two hours after crawling into it. He only rolled his eyes as I explained he'd have to get into the water because I thought I could only stand to go in one more time.
I prepared once more for the shock treatment of icy needles by lying on the warm deck, pressing my unhappy skin to the sun-baked cockpit floor. Heaving an acquiescent sigh, I stuck my flippers into the glassy sea....and stopped before any more of me could be submersed. We had company. A pod of porpoises decided they might be able to offer encouragement by skimming over to Faith and diving all about her hull. Then, as they frolicked about us, a pair of seals joined the fun, barking their support. Much as I'd have loved to swim with my fellow sea-going mammalian compadres my nerves just weren't up to it. They might decide to give some comforting nudges or nibbles and I just didn't think I could handle that at the moment. Silly, perhaps, but then the Darwin Awards are rife with incidents where some fool decides to stick his head in the lion's mouth. At least there wouldn't be any sharks in the area with our buddies around...Would there?
After a few minutes the sea-circus moved away a few hundred yards and I dropped back in. Surveying the rudder, I found a spot I thought would be useful for the new plan. I tried to get a screw into the back edge of the rudder, but my fingers would barely respond. That's it, I thought, I have to get out.
Sitting on deck I watched my legs convulsing as I pressed a new set of MRE heaters to my chest. When they'd spent enough of their warmth to be safe for direct application to skin I pulled off the fleece and put them there. Brian had warmed up some coffee which was a godsend. Eric looked a little spooked but his resolve held.
"When you go in," I chattered, "just try to get this screw screwed as fast as you can."
"Oh, I'm not going to take any more time than I absolutely have to," he assured me.
"Wear your fleece," I recommended. He did, but upon hitting the water his reaction was much as mine had been: "OoohhhHHHhhhooo!"
"You alright?" Brian queried. After a moment Eric reached for the screwdriver, "you know, once you're in it's not so bad..."
On the first attempt Eric dropped the screwdriver. On the second it became apparent that the screw wouldn't work, either. He just couldn't get any leverage.
"How about a nail?" I was getting a little desperate but this idea had the appeal of getting my second mate out of the water in the fastest possible time.
"Sure, I could get a nail through that thing no problem."
Good. What we were going to attempt next was the do or die � drive a big nail through the back edge of the rudder, tie some nylon straps to the nail, tie ropes to the straps, and steer by pulling the ropes. It had to work.
The first part went great. Eric went down with hammer and nail. The sound of pounding echoed up through the hull. He came back up with hammer still clasped in hand. "Well?"
"It's in! Now give me the strap!" I handed him the nylon, he disappeared under the boat for an extended few seconds. "It's tied!" Step two complete. The intrepid Cook had a little trouble hauling himself out after the exertion, but Brian and I grabbed his arms and facilitated the evacuation. Finally, we were done with the diving. I'd attached the ropes to the strap prior to having Eric tie it to the nail. Brian wound the lines around the tiller, half-hitching the bejesus out of them. We pushed the tiller to port, the line went taught, the rudder swung. Same effect to starboard. We had done it!!
As if in congratulation, as if this were a novel where the just are rewarded for their righteous efforts, the wind came up. Even as Eric was slipping back into his sleeping bag, Brian and I were raising sail to catch the breeze. And our emergency fix was working. Faith heeled over slightly as the wind bellied her canvas. We had fifteen miles to make up under sail before we could rely on the engine. If the wind held, we could sail all the way.
The wind did hold. It blew steadily all day, though we were beating hard into it. It looked like we'd eventually have to make a tack � our projections on the charts and GPS put us at Turtle Bay just before dark, but a tack would add at least two hours....Oh well, it wouldn't be the first post-dark arrival....just the first where we couldn't completely trust our ability to steer...
It was that night, the end of Brian's tiller shift, when things got kind of weird. I was just preparing to take over on the helm at 10:00 pm when the ocean started doing something strange. All of the crests of the waves were lighting up. The phosphorescence we loved so well was suddenly eerie, perhaps a harbinger of an ill fate. All around us the tiny waves were capping � like they would if the water was particularly shallow. The stirring of the crests was causing the dinoflagellates to ignite, bathing the scene in a beautiful, haunting, green glow. "I don't know what this is," Brian said, "but it's making me nervous." I had to agree. We checked the chart � no shallows nearby. Still...
"Maybe take our tack back out now?" I suggested.
"Yeah."
Before I could undo the sheets the tiller leapt in Brian's grasp then forced its way upward until he was struggling not to be crushed against the back of the cockpit by it. All steering capability was gone. Oh. Shit.