At once, I rushed on deck, pantsless, shoeless and brainless — evidently, the exact combo Ma Ocean and King Nep had hoped for. It was overcast. Numerous squalls were about. There was no moon, and the seas looked like dark, looming liquid mountains. Our intermittent compass light (the problem was hard to troubleshoot and fix because the bulb always worked in harbor) oriented me as to the vertical. I grabbed the helm, glanced at the Windex aloft and forced Ganesh's bow back down in the 30 to 40 knots of wind trying to round us up.