"Trim!" Mitchell screamed. "Haul the main sheet, man! Haul!"

Andy pulled his head upright. With the main sheet in both hands he leaned aft and pushed himself back with his legs to haul the boom amidship. Wind snarled in the rigging but the sloop answered the helm. The bow rose and cleaved a swell and sea spilled from the decks. Andy sat with his head lowered, forearms on his knees and the main sheet hung from his hand.

"Trim the genoa, Andy!"

Like a machine Andy turned for the sheet wrapped on the winch. The ballooned sail was hauled inboard over the lifeline and flattened and the sloop bit into the wind. Swells groped at the rails. Andy dropped his forearm on deck and lowered his head to his arm.

"We’re almost out of it but we’ve got a belly full of water! We can’t get speed! Get up, Andy! Get up and pump the bilge! We’ve come too far!"

Andy’s shoulders rose and fell with his strained breathing.

"Listen to me!" Mitchell screamed, his eyes stabbing into Andy’s back. "We’re not quitting! You son of a bitch get up and work!"

Andy turned slowly, his neck muscles bulging, eyes narrowed with rage.

"Pump the bilge!"

Andy reached for the boom and lifted himself over the tiller cap, he disappeared behind Mitchell. The pump handle rattled in the bench and brown water gushed out from the bilge into the cockpit drains. Waves pounded the bow but the sloop was rising. The knotmeter climbed to five then six. The sloop crushed a wave and spray flew into the sails. Seven knots.

"I’ll reef the main." Andy’s voice from behind surprised Mitchell.

"Forget it. Get some rest." Mitchell told himself he knew every marker off Newport Neck. And he believed it.

Andy stepped forward. "I’ll reef it." He was exhausted but his hand holds on the boom were stronger. Spray lashed his face as he freed the halyard and climbed onto the cabin top to shorten the sail.

"Andy!" Mitchell called but Andy didn’t hear him and there was nothing else Mitchell needed to say.

Andy reefed the main and hoisted the shortened sail aloft. Off to starboard the sun was a red-gold diva reclined in the pale sky. The bow split a big wave, soaking the sails and rigging and raining spray. Andy climbed down and sat to starboard with his head lowered. His soggy salt-burnt hands were formed on the edge of the bench. Diamonds of sea water dripped from the chaos of his thick hair. Raising a hand to the buckled chest strap of the life jacket he seemed to wonder how it got there.

"Are you okay?" Mitchell shouted across the wind.

Andy lifted his head and raised his palm.

"You’re not much for chewing the fat," Mitchell laughed. "But you’ve got one hell of a heart."

A smile spread wide across Andy’s face. "We’re here!" He shouted.