They left Figuera de Foz in light winds, but by the time they were off Cape Trafalgar a day later, and in the middle of the night, the wind had strengthened considerably. Both of them were now dressed in their foul weather gear and sitting in the cockpit anxiously keeping an eye on the deteriorating weather. The wind continued to increase in strength, and they decided to reduce sail before things got any worse. Unfortunately that is when the halyard decided to jam, and the mainsail stayed where it was.
As they struggled on the pitching deck to release it, the wind increased to a howling gale and the yacht was now frequently being blown onto its side. Waves were breaking over them. It was taking all Jamie’s strength to fight the helm. He wondered if they were about to join the ships resting on the seabed from the Battle of Trafalgar, nearly one hundred and forty years earlier.
The sail had to be reefed in. There was no alternative. Otherwise there was a real danger of the yacht capsizing. They made their plan. They had noticed there were occasional very short lulls in the wind, lasting about a minute or so, usually before it came back in even greater strength. Katherine put on a safety harness and collected a few small tools. It was she who would have to go up the mast and find, and fix the problem. She would not have had the strength to hoist Jamie up the mast. So releasing the jam had to be her job. Jamie hoped he was strong enough to haul her up with the spare halyard, essentially using only one arm. He needed the other hand just to hold on.
The helm was lashed down. Katherine was ready. They waited for a lull in the wind. It came.
As soon as they sensed its impending arrival Jamie was hauling up Katherine. His arm was burning by the time he heard her faint cry to stop. He watched and waited. She seemed to be up there forever. The wind must come roaring back any second. He was just about to let her down regardless, when he heard another faint cry from her. He let her down so quick he got rope burns on his hands. Just as her feet touched the deck he saw a huge wave rear up behind her. He bellowed to her to drop to the deck and hold on. She disappeared completely as the wave swept the length of the deck before breaking over Jamie. ‘Please let her be OK’, Jamie desperately prayed as he took a mouthful of seawater.
The relief when he saw Katherine’s head surface was intense. She was wet through but had a huge grin on her face. That had been a close one!
Somewhere in that torrid time, Jamie had collected a huge shiner! He did not remember his head connecting with anything, but it was the biggest, most exotic black eye he had ever had. A real beauty! Katherine could not stop giggling every time she looked at him. She felt the need to take a photograph!
The following morning, after an uncomfortable night struggling on their continued easterly course, they treated themselves to an overnight stay and rest at Villanova, a port on the Algarve. The weather improved a little overnight, and they left early the next day. After that it was a short day sail to an anchorage in a sleepy river at Mazagon on Spain’s southern coast, followed by another overnight stay in a small port a hundred kilometres further along the coast, Puerto Santa Maria.
This port had been heavily involved in the sherry trade hundreds of years ago, and is famous for once being attacked and briefly occupied by Sir Francis Drake. Unfortunately for Drake, his sailors discovered the unlimited quantities of sherry stored throughout the town. The rest is history!
Finally, thirty five days after leaving England they tied up at an unprepossessing jetty in the historical port of Gibraltar, a British possession on the southern coast of Spain since 1704. They loved Gibraltar from the first day, and ended up staying there for several weeks.
In a moment of madness they got married. Just a quiet wedding in a small church, the only guests being two couples they had become friendly with at one of the local pubs. They were blissfully happy.
When they finally managed to tear themselves away from Gibraltar, they cruised along the French North African coast as far as Tunisia, from where they made their way north to Greece, via another British possession, Malta.
The weather improved steadily as summer approached. Katherine was looking forward to an idyllic summer drifting around the countless Greek and Turkish islands.
It was late August. They were in Athens to restock their supplies and fill up with fuel before heading to the Aegean Sea, through the Corinth Canal. About once every month or so, either Katherine or Jamie made a point of contacting their families to let them know they were fine and keep up to date with the news. They would also tell them a future port of call and expected date of arrival. Today was Katherine’s turn to make contact.
A couple of hours later she returned, laden with sundry bags of groceries and packages, and a letter marked urgent for Jamie. Apprehensive, Jamie tore it open. Katherine waited patiently. He read it a second time before putting her out of her misery.
“Your brother James has apparently got himself involved with the takeover of a small American bank in California. His German friends are also part of it. The aim is to turn the bank into, as his American partner puts it, ‘The best goddamn asset finance bank on the west coast’. They already have plans for the aircraft industry. Things seem to be moving quickly.”
“What is this to do with you?”
Jamie pulled a face. “It seems that James thinks I know something about ships. He wants me to think about joining them in importing German built ships into the States. The buyers of these would be financed by his new bank.” He looked at Katherine. “Who the hell would have thought James could pull off something like this?”
“And does it interest you?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe. I need to know a lot more about it before I can make a rational decision. What do you think of it?”
“Well look at it this way. We both know that we can’t swan around the Mediterranean for ever, darling. We need to start thinking about jobs and a place to live. You need a new career. You are a married man now, with responsibilities,” she said laughing.
Jamie pointedly ignored her last comment. “If I am interested in his offer, I have to let James know straight away. Then he wants to meet with me soonest. Let’s sleep on it overnight, my love. But in the circumstances perhaps we should stay here tonight so that I can telephone or telegram James in the morning.”
The Italian Grand Prix was over. The overwhelmingly partisan crowd had gone wild as their hero, Nuvolari, in his red Alfa Romeo, had finished the first lap in third place, sandwiched between the silver Mercedes and Auto-Unions. Against all odds he drove like a man possessed, and defiantly held onto third place for another two laps. But once again the Italian was let down by his outclassed car and retired on lap four with yet another blown up engine. However it had been Nuvolari who had provided the excitement in what was otherwise a boring demonstration of German mechanical and driver superiority. The race results were identical to those of the German Grand Prix.
As a result of his two Grand Prix wins, the motor sport’s governing body, the FIA, confirmed the Mercedes driver, Hermann Lang, as the European champion of 1944. Even though there had only been three events in this first year of the return of Grand Prix racing, there was consensus that Lang deserved it, especially considering that he had won the most races in 1939 but was never named champion because the sport come to an abrupt stop on the outbreak of war.
Kesselring had finished his evaluation of the three different designs for the four engine jet airliner. Four aircraft manufacturers, Dornier, Focke-Wulf, Heinkel and Junkers had submitted designs for the jet airliner. He was impressed. They all looked superb and exciting, although he was less enthusiastic about the Dornier design than the other three.