It was a night of high excitement for my wife, our two daughters, and myself. A steady rain drummed on the coachroof and against the tightly dogged portholes, and the temperature was less than 40 degrees F, but the saloon of our Cape George 31 was toasty. A cozy fire blazed in the tiny cast-iron stove next to the main bulkhead, and the cheery light from three oil lamps reflected off scores of varnished surfaces. The girls, Antigone and Emily, were scurrying all about the boat. They raced from their cabin to the head, then along the shelf above the settee to the double berth forward.