DAY 12 (Wednesday 25th Nov)

Last night’s fun and games cast something of a shadow over Sinan at first light. We were, frankly, hacked off - and no amount of Frank Cooper’s Oxford Coarse Cut Marmalade on freshly baked bread was going to cheer us up.

Things took a turn for the worse during the morning radio roll call with the rest of the fleet. Captain K was sitting by the radio at the chart table – the spitting image of Jack Hawkins in the Cruel Sea, straining to hear voices through the white noise. And then on came Roundabout to report her position – she was crystal clear, a portentous sign in itself perhaps – ‘Morning all!’ Roundabout was very upbeat. ‘Our position is x and y over... oh, and we caught a huge tuna and managed to land the fish and have popped it all in the freezer. It should keep us busy for days!’ I looked at Captain K: ‘Freezers have no place on a real sailing boat,’ I commented supportively. He muttered something, before asking somebody to put the kettle on.

Captain K may also have been reflecting on an email he received from his second son, young Gilbert, which started: ‘Daddy, can I have £1 to spend on a game on itunes?’ and then moved on to ask how things were with his father and brother in the middle of the Atlantic. We debated whether Gilbert should be allowed to spend £1 on this game but in the end the skipper, showing an unexpectedly generous side, approved the expenditure.

Having to haul in the cruising chute (now known as the crazy chute) from the water in the small hours had dulled our spirits. It had been a great night ruined by one rather crucial rope snapping.

After about half an hour we stopped feeling sorry for ourselves and began preparing to fly two genoas (a fairly standard downwind sailing rig). We got it running without too much fuss and it was pleasing on the eye – two great white wings at the boat’s bow. But, crucially, we were at least a knot slower than we were with the crazy chute.

Kitkat managed to raise a laugh when asked why he was taking so long to make the bread (see picture). Witheringly, he explained that he was waiting for the water in the kettle he’d boiled to cool to tepid before using it to mix the dough. “Why don’t you just add some cold water?” asked Captain K. “Will that work?” responded Kit. He’s doing arts-based A-levels.

The rest of the day was taken up with cleaning chores and chat. The talk soon turned to how – if at all – we would rig up the fresh halyard needed to fly either the crazy chute or the spinnaker. Without at least one of these sails in action we would be condemned to a slower passage than any of us wanted.

We all agreed we needed the new halyard. One complication: it would involve someone being winched up to the very top of the mast. That’s at least 50ft above the deck and 60ft above the water.

Colin confessed to be being a “bit of a rock climber” in his younger days and so immediately volunteered to scale what now looked like a giant metal toothpick. He wondered whether the swaying of the mast might make him feel seasick and force him down. I offered to go up instead if this proved to be the case (and immediately set about trying to find as many seasickness pills I could find to stir into his tea).

The pair of us chewed the fat until about 4am, coming to the stunning conclusion that the top of the mast was “a bloody long way up”.

RWD