We left Miami late at night on the 4^th of July.  We had just finished a great meal along with a few pitchers of ice cold Newcastle at our favorite south beach diner “Big Pinks” and as we pulled out of the harbor there were the most spectacular displays of Fireworks all around us.  If there is one thing I can say, Miami really knows how to throw a party. Finally!  We were leaving theUnited States and what better day to do it on!  The sail was calm and the night was beautiful.  We were on a good tack adjusted for set and drift and planned to arrive in Gun Cay late the following morning. Everyone was in good spirits and we remained so until the following day.  As we entered the Gulf Stream the wind died completely and we took down the sails to motor.  Things were going well until I looked down at the temperature gauge and realized it was pinned on the wrong side.  I immediately shut off the engine and went below.  We had snapped the water pump belt. I removed the refrigeration condenser belt as it is roughly the same size and fitted it on the water pump and alternator adjusting the alternator arm with a pry bar until it was snug. Problem solved I thought.  We started up the engine and away we went. For about 5 minutes.  At which point the needle on temp gauge resumed its unhappy journey astern.  Well… I had one of those emergency belts with all the little links that snap together.  I paid a bunch of money for it at West Marine…. Turns out, it is not worth a dime.  To make a long story short imagine every possible thing or combination of things you could possibly use to make a V-belt out.  Well, I’m pretty sure I tried them all and none worked but for a few minutes.  I was at the verge of pulling my hair out, covered in grease, the sun blazing down unmercifully and we were steadily making leeway at about 4 knots the wrong direction.  We will be back in Cape Canaveral before long I thought to myself.  We set the sails and tried more belt inventions including one made of hand braided Kevlar covered in heat shrink material…. didn’t make it 30 seconds.  Why can’t girls these days wear panty hose!  Eventually the wind picked up to 5 knots and we were able to sail.  With all of our Northing there was absolutely no way we were going to make Gun Cay, so we shot for Bimini.  We arrived late in the afternoon.  The Guidebooks said there was no way in hell that we were going to squeeze in the shallow channel leading to the marinas and protected anchorage in town (we later found this to be a load of malarkey as we had 14 feet the whole way) But there was a nice beach to the north of the harbor entrance and the chart showed a sandy bottom with good depth close to shore.  In fact, off in the distance it looked like there was already a sailboat there.  At least I won’t be the only idiot I thought.  In anything but an east wind you would have little protection anchored here, and the steep jagged cliffs cut into the sand 80 ft back from the shoreline show as a testament to the fact that this shore takes a real beating in a Norther.  The weather report predicted light winds out of the east over the next 48 hours so we should be alright I assured myself.  We pulled into about 18 feet of water and selected a nice sandy patch, I was about to set the 35lb CQR on Chain and long nylon rode, but decide for good measure I would set the 45 lb Bruce on 150 ft of heavy chain.  We set the anchor backed down on it and rigged the snubber.  We then went about securing and organizing the boat.  I looked over at the other boat which was a beautiful 50’ brand spanking new Beneteau.  She was so far into shore I couldn’t believe a boat of her size could fit, maybe 20 yards off the beach.  I watched her crew depart in the dinghy and land on the beach.  Not gracefully I must say, as the breaking waves would not allow such a thing.  They dragged the dinghy up out of the water and proceeded to walk up the sand dunes and disappear into the town.  As we finished up tidying the boat I notice that the skies were getting very, very dark to the south.  “I think there is gonna be a good squall coming” I called down to the girls.  I double checked all of our ground tackle and got a second anchor ready just in case.  We all sat down in the cockpit with drinks to talk about the days adventure and watch the storm approach. 

    The skies over the Bahamas when it storms are… intense is the best word I can think of.  I have never seen anything like them before or since.  I don’t know how many funnel clouds, water spouts, and close lightning strikes I witnessed there in the Bermuda triangle, but this was the first Bahamian squall any of us had experienced and there is nothing like a first!  The first thing that happens is a black wall approaches with big boiling Thunder clouds extending to the heavens.  As it approaches everything gets calm and you can feel the electricity all over.  The low lying clouds start dancing all around in strange patterns tying knots with one another and then a section of the cloud mass will shear and start reaching down towards you.  All of the sudden it gets very cold and then POW!  big winds, pelting rain, thunder, and the meanest lightning you have ever seen which is a little unnerving when you are clinging on to a 55 ft lightning rod in the middle of a flat ocean.  Luckily these storms are of short duration so the wave height is limited and you can bet it will all be over in a half hour.  Of course, I did not know what I know now back then, and when that front hit it was pretty wild. Visibility was close to zero and the boat was bucking up and down on the steep chop.  Sarah was laying on the mattress in the V-berth for some reason and Shannon and I both watched her almost hit the ceiling.  We couldn’t see the shore or anything. There were a bunch of little fishing boats around us a second ago and now who knows where they went.   The rain let up a bit and I could barely make out the other sailboat.  It seemed farther north.  Are we dragging?  No, wrong way… they must have a ton of scope out I thought.  But the boat kept moving North down the coastline.  Oh shit!  They are dragging hard!  The rain was still heavy as were the winds, but I could see a big reef with jagged rocks  extending from the point half a mile off and this boat was heading strait for it and picking up speed.  I got on the VHF and started hailing everybody I could think of on every channel of promise in accordance with those listed in the Reeds almanac.  Nobody responded.  I had Shannon continue to issue the Pan Pan and I went back on deck. One of the small fishing boats, and old dilapidated 25ft inboard sport boat was making its way in a cloud of black smoke passed us to the harbor entrance.  Its crew of a middle aged man and a boy in his late teens did not look like they were having a good time at all.  I screamed at them and got their attention. The man pretended not to see me.  I shouted at them again waving my arms and motioning towards the distressed sailboat. The man altered coarse to come up alongside and I could see the reluctance in his every movement.  As they came up alongside I shouted through the wind and explained the situation.  The man played dumb but I could tell he knew about the sailboat. He saw I was determined, and not about to back down from my demands to help rescue it.  When I made it clear that if he did not help I was going to go out alone in the dinghy he acquiesced admitting that would be a likely death sentence.  There was no way for him to pick me up from the boat in those seas, so I got into the dinghy and let the painter all the way out.  He pulled up behind us in the slipstream and I transferred from the dinghy to his bow and nimbly into the cockpit.  Brief introductions were made and we went off after the half million dollar sailboat which was now dangerously close to the rocks.  Driving that boat in a following sea of this size seemed to be a trick as we would surf down the face and then get pooped The engine was having trouble because the exhaust kept flooding but I have to hand it to the guy, he really knew how to drive that boat.  I had originally thought they were father and son but instead they said they were friends and had come over the day before from Fort Lauderdale to do some fishing though I saw no tackle whatsoever aboard.  As I talked to them I got a strange vibe, like they weren’t the kind of company one ought to keep.  Their shifty eyes, evasive answers to questioning, and generally rough deminer gave me a strange impression.  I bet my salt to this day they were, or were about to be, wanted men or pirates.  But there was no time for those thoughts, for I had a boat to save.  We pulled up alongside the yacht and the man shouted something to the boy which I didn’t quite hear.  The boy crawled into the dirty makeshift tent in the bow section where they apparently slept judging by the sleeping bags, and produced a grappling hook on about a hundred feet of ½ inch 3 strand nylon.  We maneuvered to the bow of the sailing boat keeping to weather and the boy crawled up on the bow and like an expert cowboy lassoed the anchor chain from 30 feet away on the first try.  As we pulled the line in the grapple slid down the chain.  We were all expecting the sliding to continue but then 15 feet down the chain the grapple caught…. The anchor!  Yes!  These idiots had dropped the anchor until it hit the bottom and then just packed up and left.  We all looked at each other dumbfounded.  Must be a charter boat the man grunted. Damned idiots.  We let out all hundred feet of ½ inch nylon, which looked dangerously thin, and proceeded with the arduous task of towing the big yacht back through the still large seas.  “Where am I taking this thing” the man asked me.  I told him we would bring it back to my boat and tie it astern, but just then the ant sized crew of the boat appeared on the distant shore running down the sand dunes the women waving their arms around.  They all seemed in a frenzy and soon were attempting to get the dinghy in the water.  “I think we should just put it back where it was” the man said.  He continued “I’m just going to drop you off with it; I don’t want to deal with none of this.”  And so that is exactly what he did.  The man grumbled as they departed “you better get some money out of this” he said.  “If it wasn’t for you, they certainly wouldn’t have a boat.”  The pair then turned their boat around and left before the party arrived.  I was busy trying to set the anchor when they finally made it out to the boat but everything aboard was hydraulic or pushbutton electric so I could do nothing for them without the keys. When they arrived they were soaking wet and frazzled after battling the shore break, absolutely clueless as to what had happened. I explained the situation which seemed to take a long time for them to absorb.  Perhaps they thought we were pirates, and weren’t buying the story, or perhaps they were just dumb.  It turns out that it was indeed a charter boat and that the family was from Wisconsin and had very little sailing experience.