THE DOVE FILLS UP

Holding on by our toenails while the Dove bucked was bad enough but now we had to hold on and bring up the end of a large line and attach it to the mast underneath the crows nest. Once we were in place and everyone had stopped puking, we tried to talk through what was to be done. We decided that it was time to climb back down and go get a beer. Really we did. We knew though that this was not an option, the boat and crew where in danger, especially the three idiots trying to hold on to the mast. W just had to do it. I backed up in my approach and tried to tackle it one part at a time. First the end of the line needed to come up, for that we had brought along a long piece of small stuff to use as a messenger. We fed them our line and they tied on the fore stay and we began hauling away. It was heavy and we each could only afford one hand for the task so two would haul while one got lower handhold. This went on for eternity. The movement of the mast was not even or steady so we had to constantly stop concentrate on holding on for a moment, then go back to hauling. By the time we got our end up we were exhausted and still had no plan as to how we were going to get the fore stay back in place. We had to tie off our messenger, rest and try to figure it out. I realized that one of us (me) was going to have to go back down and work while trying to hold on to the ratline. The hard part was that the lower end of the fore stay was still attached so we only had enough line on our end to wrap- around the mast and come back to itself. The line had failed because it was not tied to begin with, the line had been lead around the mast, laid beside itself and then lashed together with a type of twine. Originally this was done while the other end was loose and the boat was tied up at the dock. I climbed down and realized that we needed to manhandle the end of the fore stay around the mast then pass down the messenger to the crew on deck. The fore stay sat in a cradle so once we had everything in place , the crew on deck could pull down and tighten the fore stay while I reached out and began to lash the intersection. That was the theory. We were just barley able to get enough tension back into the fore stay to begin to lash them. The problem was that the mast was still swaying back and forth. Just as we would get some tension, the mast would jerk away and pull out a bunch of slack. After a few attempts, I had to regroup and tie a slip not of sorts over the larger lines, then wait for the mast to sway forward while the crew on deck pulled for all they where worth, at that moment I closed up my knot and it held. The mast was surprisingly tight. Now I frantically lashed the two together using only one hand. It held. The mast was no longer banging like a telephone pole falling and in fact it was very stable. The three of us wasted no time hustling down the ratlines. We were exhausted, we could barely stand. I was ready for some medicinal brandy and was about to ask the captain if there was any on board, I knew for a fact there was some on the towboat, when suddenly one of the crew yells from below "I think we're sinking" with more then a touch of panic in his voice. This did not overly concern me at first. This was a wooden vessel and wooden vessel often leak. I thought I would find two inches sloshing in the bilge. What I found was two feet and rising quickly, I could see it flowing in and it looked a bit like whitewater rapids. The water was coming in many places. I was flabbergasted. One leak is a leak, you plug, you bung it, you even have a junior member of the crew hold a rag against it. You slow it down and pump. We had two pumps, one electric and one manual. But this was not a leak, it was a disaster and I could not imagine what had gone wrong so quickly. We were sinking and quick. I have been aboard one other vessel as it sank and it is not a good feeling. We were sinking and I was afraid for my crew. Shore was close and we had a tow boat along side yet I knew that man and mice panic when they see the water coming up. Instincts kick it and the noblest of man turns into a jello head. All logic, all thought, all reason can leave a man at the sight of a hull filling up and men can become crying children in search of their mother at the drop of a hat. We were sinking damn it.