It was a hot, crystal-clear July evening when my wife, Sue, and I doused the sails on our Sabre 34 and motored into Oak Bluffs, on Martha's Vineyard, picked up a mooring, and got the dinghy ready to go and retrieve our two daughters, who were arriving on the ferry. As an afterthought before heading to shore, I went below into the head and reached into the small cabinet in the vanity to turn the diverter valve over to make sure we didn't inadvertently pump anything into the harbor. The handle seemed a little stiff. In fact, the next thing I knew, it came off in my hand with a snap of Marelon. There was a nub still there, though, so I grabbed my needle-nose Vise-Grips, latched on, and gave it a good twist. There was another snap, and darned if the valve didn't start to drip. Nothing big, mind you, but nothing I could ignore, either.