Monique Newby:
Singer-Songwriter-Author
I made for the hatchway and was flung across the entire length of the cabin. After Ellis mounted the second wave, she dropped from a greater height and shook violently. Then, just as she smashed into the trough, there was a thunderous banging on the coach roof. I clambered on deck, dreading what I would find.
The crash I heard was the mast that had broken in half before collapsing on deck. At the sight of the chaos, the Tarot reader’s prediction ran through me again. In shock, I searched the horizon but couldn’t see any evidence of the rogue waves that had caused the mast to collapse. There wasn’t a ship in sight either. Maybe I had run into a sleeping whale. I had read about navigators on small boats, leaving their depth sounder switched on the whole time so that the sonic signal would warn the slumbering giants of their approach. I didn’t have mine on. As for Ellis’s deck, it was mayhem and looked as if the big top tent had collapsed on Fred Karno’s Circus. I thought of the Commodore at the Scarborough Yacht Club, who had asked me with a smirk which circus I belonged to. He was referring to Ellis’s red and yellow colour scheme.
There was no time to waste if I wanted to survive this. The mast had broken in two, and half was now in the water. It could smash against the hull in the heavy swell and put a big hole in Ellis. The rigging and sails were in a haphazard tangle, mainly over the side. Luckily, the mainsail had remained attached to the two halves of the mast, which was one small consolation. By now, Ellis was wallowing in a three-metre swell. I enjoy a bit of fun but ‘bugger a pantomime!’ I told people I would sort myself out alone if I got into trouble at sea. So here I was – get out of this one, Peter!
I made for the hatchway and was flung across the entire length of the cabin. After Ellis mounted the second wave, she dropped from a greater height and shook violently. Then, just as she smashed into the trough, there was a thunderous banging on the coach roof. I clambered on deck, dreading what I would find.
The crash I heard was the mast that had broken in half before collapsing on deck. At the sight of the chaos, the Tarot reader’s prediction ran through me again. In shock, I searched the horizon but couldn’t see any evidence of the rogue waves that had caused the mast to collapse. There wasn’t a ship in sight either. Maybe I had run into a sleeping whale. I had read about navigators on small boats, leaving their depth sounder switched on the whole time so that the sonic signal would warn the slumbering giants of their approach. I didn’t have mine on. As for Ellis’s deck, it was mayhem and looked as if the big top tent had collapsed on Fred Karno’s Circus. I thought of the Commodore at the Scarborough Yacht Club, who had asked me with a smirk which circus I belonged to. He was referring to Ellis’s red and yellow colour scheme.
There was no time to waste if I wanted to survive this. The mast had broken in two, and half was now in the water. It could smash against the hull in the heavy swell and put a big hole in Ellis. The rigging and sails were in a haphazard tangle, mainly over the side. Luckily, the mainsail had remained attached to the two halves of the mast, which was one small consolation. By now, Ellis was wallowing in a three-metre swell. I enjoy a bit of fun but ‘bugger a pantomime!’ I told people I would sort myself out alone if I got into trouble at sea. So here I was – get out of this one, Peter!
GALLERY:
Photos related to: Stranger to Caution
‘Be aware of alligators,’ Jack at the yacht club warned us. ‘If you’re in the water and see one, swim calmly the other way and get out as soon as possible.’
‘I’d probably break the 100-metre freestyle record,’ I remarked.
Jack grinned, then continued: ‘That’s not all. You’ll be meeting barges the size of horizontal skyscrapers. When approaching a tight bend, you must announce your presence on channel 16 so the captains can alert you they are coming. Then, you’ll have to hold off until they pass. They’ll toot. One toot will tell you the captain intends to pass you on their port side, and two to starboard. Two years ago, a tug with a bow 50-foot wide, with nine barges three abreast, struck down a motor yacht around a tight bend, pushing it under the full length of the tow. All that remained were fibreglass fragments of the vessel. As for the crew, they never recovered their bodies.’
Did I need to hear more?
‘Red Necks are another breed to reckon with. They have ‘shootouts’ amongst themselves over fishing territories. And if they’re in their skiffs and a boat makes too much wake, they’ll pump lead into the superstructure to teach the crew a lesson. Watch out, those guys have taken “The Law” into their own hands.’
‘Capricorn’s wake wouldn’t swamp a paper cup,’ Peter chuckled. (He had carefully studied the rules of navigation on the Tombigbee.)
‘One more thing,’ Jack added, ‘Don’t expect to go ashore much. It’s nearly all primeval forests, and watch out for moccasin snakes, racoons, coyotes, and other creatures.’
These images have sustained sea environments, which adds to their authenticity. We hope you enjoy the journey with these photographs, in addition to reading Book One: Stranger to Caution & Book Two: Slow Boat to Nashville.
I made for the hatchway and was flung across the entire length of the cabin. After Ellis mounted the second wave, she dropped from a greater height and shook violently. Then, just as she smashed into the trough, there was a thunderous banging on the coach roof. I clambered on deck, dreading what I would find.
The crash I heard was the mast that had broken in half before collapsing on deck. At the sight of the chaos, the Tarot reader’s prediction ran through me again. In shock, I searched the horizon but couldn’t see any evidence of the rogue waves that had caused the mast to collapse. There wasn’t a ship in sight either. Maybe I had run into a sleeping whale. I had read about navigators on small boats, leaving their depth sounder switched on the whole time so that the sonic signal would warn the slumbering giants of their approach. I didn’t have mine on. As for Ellis’s deck, it was mayhem and looked as if the big top tent had collapsed on Fred Karno’s Circus. I thought of the Commodore at the Scarborough Yacht Club, who had asked me with a smirk which circus I belonged to. He was referring to Ellis’s red and yellow colour scheme.
There was no time to waste if I wanted to survive this. The mast had broken in two, and half was now in the water. It could smash against the hull in the heavy swell and put a big hole in Ellis. The rigging and sails were in a haphazard tangle, mainly over the side. Luckily, the mainsail had remained attached to the two halves of the mast, which was one small consolation. By now, Ellis was wallowing in a three-metre swell. I enjoy a bit of fun but ‘bugger a pantomime!’ I told people I would sort myself out alone if I got into trouble at sea. So here I was – get out of this one, Peter!