It began as the perfect day for a sailboat race in Small Point Harbor... blue skies (above the dark clouds), a fresh (35 knot) breeze, and (nervous grimaces masquerading as) smiles all around. With Small Point newcomer Maayan aboard, the Tara's Captain, Bob, and First Mate, David, were eager to create a lasting impression, and so far all signs were pointing to an exciting day - perhaps even a victory!


But the tension soon mounted - the commodore set the course and boats began pacing back and forth along the starting line, jockeying for position. As the final blast of the air horn pierced the brisk, salty air, the race began, and within minutes, the mighty Tara had maneuvered to the lead of the pack (at least the pack in the cropped image below)!


The initial tension soon eased, and as the crew rounded the first mark, the conversation turned to Maayan's previous nautical experience. When it was revealed that her only prior journey by sailboat had resulted in a capsizing, Captain Bob was quick to reassure her that with himself at the helm, the Tara's keel had seen nary a ray of sunlight in four decades. Had the wind been calmer, or the seas less violent, Captain Bob might have sensed the irony descending upon the Tara at that moment and taken evasive action... but it was not meant to be - the jib soon began to backwind, the boat veered leeward, and not a moment later, Captain Bob, First Mate David, Maayan, and the Tara itself were, quite literally, three sheets to the wind. The "gasp heard 'round the world" ensued, as the entire Small Point fleet witnessed the once invincible Tara topple, pitching the entire crew into the frigid, lobster-infested waters of the North Atlantic.


As the shock subsided, rescue boats began rushing to the scene to offer assistance. Meanwhile, other sailors hustled back to the safety of port, lest they suffer a similar fate. Of course, the paparazzi was also quick to arrive at the Tara's side. An undisclosed photographer was observed circling the ailing Tara in a speedboat, capturing harrowing footage of the rescue of First Mate David and now twice-drenched Maayan.


But alas, Captain Bob would not leave his ship. Bailer clenched in his teeth, he righted the boat and lashed a towline to the bow. With the Tara finally upright and in tow, Captain Bob began to bail. Furiously, he slung bailers upon bailers of water over the side, but they would only be replaced when the next towering wave crashed into the open hull. It soon became apparent that Captain Bob's efforts were failing, and all who watched could not help but wonder if the dark, tumultuous waters would be his final resting place.


And indeed it might have been, had not the photographer documenting Captain Bob's untimely demise had a change of heart. Perhaps it was just a random act of humanity - a sudden realization that saving a life could have more merit than filming a death - or perhaps it was more - perhaps the photographer sensed that a little piece of Captain Bob lived deep within him, that they shared some kind of immutable bond at the molecular level. Whatever was behind it, the photographer leapt into action - he floored the engine and sprayed Captain Bob in the face with propeller wake. While not immediately beneficial to the situation, this allowed the photographer to reach the rescue boat and suggest a change of course - straight to the sandy shores of Feinstein Beach (a.k.a. Spring Beach on USGS maps). It was here, finally, that the bedraggled Tara was bailed dry.


Back in the calm waters behind Goose Rock, the crew was reunited at last. Captain Bob and First Mate David seemed to have staged at least a partial recovery, but their concern immediately turned to young Maayan. Had she been scarred for life? Had she construed this event, the second of two nautical adventures to end in disaster, as an indisputable threat from the almighty Lord Neptune never to venture into his realm again? This final picture tells it all.