Rum Cay to Dominican Republic, Day 3

I had the dawn watch. It was amazing to sit on this little blob in the tractless seas, no land in sight, and realize the same sun that had gone plop over there last night, was brightening the sky way over in this other place this morning.

Our day was almost completely lazy. We lolled about, reading the thrillers the previous owner had left on board. These books are the kind you probably would never buy ordinarily, but they are ideal for cruises. Fortunately, there are book exchanges at various cruising stops, so you can turn in the ones you've finished for new ones. They are all pretty much identical. In fact, WW and I wondered whether, with aging memories such as ours, we could perhaps keep just two books on board. Unfortunately, that won't work. I read faster than he. That's because he spends all that potential reading time worrying.

It was very warm during the afternoon, and I'd gone below to get out of the sun when WW shouted, "Porpoises!"

A dozen or more came to check us out and six of them stayed with us for a mile or two. They seemed to enjoy swimming between our bows and keeping just ahead of us, and just below the bows when they'd crash down after a swell. I crawled forward and sat on the starboard bow, porpoises leaping and blowing beneath my feet. Crashing swells drenched me, but I was grinning from ear to ear. It was amazing, a dream, to be just above them as they paced us, moving effortlessly through the fabulously clear water. Then, suddenly, it was time to go. They curved gracefully ahead and away from us, then dropped behind. I looked back and one came from astern of us and a bit to starboard, then leapt a good five feet clear of the water and covered at least 10 feet in a spectacular farewell.

I crawled back to the cockpit where WW was standing with the shower. I was hosed down and not allowed into the cockpit until I'd rinsed myself and my clothes completely. Good ol' salt water.

Immediately after, WW spotted a small whale puffing away to starboard, and speculated that it was either a baby or a pilot whale. Then he saw a larger whale behind and beneath it, so our bet is a mom and tot team of the humpback variety.

At 16:30 EST, we were 5o nautical miles from Ocean World Marina, outside Puerto Plata, DR. I decided we should celebrate with our first RP (with real ice, husbanded against this moment) since Rum Cay. I proudly produced them in the cockpit, where WW wasn't.

He was on the foredeck. He was busy with something. He was worrying for a change. As the ice in the RPs softly and silently vanished away, he told me the forestay was coming apart. For those who don't know, that's a Very Important Piece of Boat. It holds the mast up. We furled the genny till only a small triangle was still pulling us. We reduced speed on our only remaining engine, so as to move at no more than about 4 knots. Apparently, Django hadn't enjoyed the banging she'd been getting any more than we had.

Our third night was very very long. It was the first time I too had been really worried. When WW would go below to sleep, I'd look up at the mast and wonder fearfully when exactly it was going to come crashing down. Every bump and thump had me twitching. I had no trouble at all staying awake.

We saw small craft heading into Haiti or the DR, but they were few and far between. WW had the dawn watch. He woke me soon after. The coast of the DR was a few miles to starboard and a more beautiful sight I have rarely seen. We were moving along the coast to our marina, about 20 miles further east.

WW wanted to lower the mainsail. The furler remained resolutely jammed, so we ended up hauling it down off the mast and bundling it up on the boom. My job was interim bungee cord, wrapped desperately around sail and boom while WW lashed it down. It's nice to feel useful.

We entered Ocean World Marina at about 9 a.m. and learned that the time was 8 a.m. From here on in, ship's time is EDT.