I place the line around the winch—my fingers are frozen, every movement hurts, but slowly the wind force in the headsail is diminished and I can heave to. Then I yank the mainsheet out of the quick-release cleat, and now it’s the mainsail that’s billowing wildly—I have to move forward to the mast to reef.

The wind is a wall as I crawl toward the bow. I should have put on the harness, but I climb up on top of the cabin nonetheless, and free up the halyard on the mast winch. At the same time, a wave hits the ship—it’s like being hit by a train. I hold on to the mast with both hands, the end of the halyard slips and blows out horizontally from the mast. I reach for it, but know I have no chance of snagging it. The wind blows it back and forth, in the end wrapping it around one of the shrouds just beneath the crosstrees. Dammit, dammit.

I loosen a boat hook I have attached to the deck, and hold it out toward the crosstrees, but it’s no use, of course it’s no use. Should I climb up? No, not now, it will just have to hang there—the mainsail is almost down on the boom. I open the shackle on the sheet; my fingers are numb with cold as I fasten it to the mast and furl the sail. Then I crawl back to the cockpit. It’s only then that I’m able to breathe.

A quick trip inside to pull on my sweater, rain overalls, and raincoat on top of the windbreaker and trousers I am wearing. I am already soaking wet, it’s pouring off me, but there’s nothing I can do about it; there’s no time to change.

I should secure the containers of ice. They are stacked in the saloon, their weight is still holding them in place, but a big wave now is all it will take to send them sliding off the benches, careening onto the floor and creating chaos.

I find some rope and a few old elastic straps, look around for something to lash them to, and finally stretch the straps and ropes several times back and forth between the pole the table is attached to and some hooks on the wall.

At that moment, the coffeepot crashes onto the floor. I’d left it on the cooker. Water runs out of the spout, I snatch it up, pour the water out, toss it into a cupboard, close the lid on the sink, and shut the valve on the gas cylinder.

How bad is it, really? Do I have to batten down the hatches and lock myself inside, stay down here with the ice until the wind drops?