I think most of us had a feeling that the end was very near.

Just after 6 p.m., in the dark, as the boat was in the yeasty backwash from the seas flung from this iron-bound coast, then, just when things looked their worst, they changed for the best.

I have marvelled often at the thin line that divides success from failure and the sudden turn that leads from apparently certain disaster to comparative safety.

The wind suddenly shifted, and we were free once more to make an offing.

Almost as soon as the gale eased, the pin that locked the mast to the thwart fell out.