line Max said, the main line is what is holding us. I know, but I just really feel like I'm right. Okay, he said.
I undid the canvas lee cloths around the stern and Max held the light while I tried to grab the first line I could reach. The boat pulled it violently from my hand crushing my fingers against the toe rail. I yelped and decided another approach was needed. I decided to wrap a line around it and make it off to the winch. As the mess of lines in the water surged upwards, I grabbed the thickset bundle and tied a bowline. It was the first time the speed of a bowline actually mattered! I brought the line to the winch and raised it up to where I could cut it. I began cutting and was shocked at the density of the woven polypropylene. It felt like cutting into cement. I sawed and sawed grunting like a stuck pig with the gunnel in my ribs. Holy shit, I said to Max. It took ten minutes to get through that line and as it dropped, it didn't seem to change a thing. I felt defeated but Max egged me on saying he thought I was on to something. He lassoed the next line and I held the light for him as he sawed. The boat heaved and a wave washed over us. We fell over and lost the line. Getting it back again Max cut into the place where he had made progress and a short time later it fell away. We still hadn't even touched the main line, the one that held the rudder, but we were tired. The difficulty of cutting the line was intimidating. We knew for certain that it couldn't be done underwater. We struggled to do it from the cockpit. Let's take a break, Max said. Okay, I think we will be able to crank forward the main line soon. We sat back and, after a few minutes, the feeling of the boat just changed. The speedometer read three. I think we are moving. No way. We shined the light over the back and saw clear water. We saw no floats, nets, or lines, like it had all been imagined. Cutting the floats free had allowed the main line to sink as we surged upwards in the waves freeing our rudder in the process. We were elated, exalted in our freedom, laughing, celebrating our triumph. I raised the sails and sent Max back to sleep. It was his watch again in a few hours. The next day was a wonderful day at sea. Not only were we riding the high of having escaped danger for a second time, but the weather had cleared and the sea settled down. We raised all sails and continued to average over six knots. Without the annoyance of spray we could open the hatches and cool the cabin down. We took turns sleeping off the drama of the previous night like two cats, lazy in the day and up to all sorts of adventures at night. Did you notice the chafe gear on that mess
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