I go inside, to stay this time, secure the hatchway, sit down by the map table—and immediately I can feel how I’m trembling. Have I been like this the whole time, or is it a delayed reaction? I don’t know, but I shake as if the wind were taking hold of me. But it’s not cold and frost that’s tearing me apart, my back is sweating from the exertion. It’s anxiety. I’m afraid. This is the first time, I think, the first time I have been overpowered like this. I wasn’t prepared, didn’t check the weather forecast, idiot. You never sail out without checking the weather. I could have known it was coming, could have been somewhere else now, a port of refuge, docked, solid ground beneath my feet, heat, yellow light, a bathtub.

But I managed it: the sails are reefed, the boat and drogue are working together, I’m sitting here. I managed it, I don’t need a port of refuge because I am my own and the boat is also mine. She gave it to me when I turned eighteen, it was her olive branch, and I accepted it, couldn’t bring myself to turn it down. And she expected something in return, I knew that—she expected a lot in return, an entire life, but I never gave her that.

People like her, like Magnus, they think everything is simple, that if you just buy a big enough Band-Aid, the wound will heal. But if it hasn’t been cleaned it’s no use, as long as dirt, pebbles, and dust are still stuck in the flesh.

The storm lashes at the boat, a horrific racket, the rigging shudders. I am so tired I lay my arms on the map table, lean my head on them, just for a moment, rest for a moment. But I can’t, because I can hear how the water is leaking in, surrounding the boat, not just under it, but washing over the deck, pouring down from the sky and it’s leaking inside—the sound of dripping water is everywhere.

I stand up again and listen—it’s coming from the forepeak. I move up there: the fore hatch is not closed properly, water is trickling in. I try screwing the hatch even more tightly shut, but it doesn’t help—the water keeps dripping, tiny drops forcing their way through, stealing their way in, finding their way through invisible cracks.

It’s also leaking from the windows in the forepeak. I’ve sealed them with silicon, but it’s not enough. I should have unscrewed them and reinforced them with a Sikaflex gasket, because now it’s dripping down onto the berth, cold water on the mattress and duvet.