Later that night, as we approached the shipping lanes, we doubled up on the watches in case contact was needed with any ships bearing down on us. Ships don’t always respond when called, but the effort would need to be made anyway because a 40-foot sailboat would not fare well in a collision with a 1,000-foot tanker. Just as David was stepping to the wheel, a particularly large wave of green water ran over the transom and flooded the cockpit. It knocked the EPIRB off its bracket and into the rather full footwell. Our immediate concern was that the action had activated it, transmitting a distress signal to all passing craft. Luckily, upon retrieval we found that the switch had not been tripped. It was just another moment of stress that wasn’t needed. Here we were, flying by the seat of our foul-weather pants — cold, wet, slightly seasick, tired and beaten down, dealing with conditions that were mostly new to us. There was no panic or fear, but anxiety was in the air, and it’s safe to say we weren’t having much fun.