Within minutes, I heard snoring. Another rumble of thunder. Might be my imagination, but that sounds closer, I thought. I decided to take down the jib, just in case. Thank god for the jib downhaul and the instant spinnaker pole arrangement. Jib down. Pole down. I slid out and secured the jib with gaskets around the bowsprit just as a fresh gust of wind sent Taleisin flying onward at hull speed. Better take a reef in the main was my next thought as I felt the first spray of rain. I rushed below and grabbed my foul-weather jacket. Back on deck, I had the mainsail reefed just before a crack of thunder split simultaneously with a bolt of lightning. The wind suddenly shifted. Then it began to howl. I rushed aft and unhooked the windvane self-steering gear. I pulled in the mainsheet. Taleisin headed into the wind, then slowed to lay hove to as sheets of warm tropical rain pounded down. Better get that damned jib off the headstay, I reminded myself. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. Then, as I was stuffing the unruly mass of wet Dacron into its sail bag, the wind veered and began to ease. By the time I heard the ship’s bell ring out six times, I had reset the jib, got it out on the pole, unreefed the mainsail, eased it out, and vanged it down—and soon we were sailing along nicely, wing and wing, making 6.5 knots.