“Was there a Kona wind when Huntington was lost?”
“Yes. A big one.”
“Then we’d better get out of here fast. We’ll try to get back round Ka Lae. The Point ought to give us some protection.”
There was no doubt now that a Kona wind was catching them. Biff changed course again. He headed Easy Action’s bow west by north. The wind rose rapidly. It whistled through the sails, making the rigging lines vibrate. The sea began kicking up.
The wind drove Easy Action before it. The yawl heeled far over, its mainsail stretched taut on the starboard side. The yawl was fairly racing through the water.
Suddenly they were struck by a torrential downpour. The rain hit the deck in drops as big as half-dollars. The sky had blackened. The shore was blanked out. Angry whitecaps dotted the water like blobs of cotton.
“Take the tiller, Li,” Biff shouted above the roar of the wind and the pounding of the rain. “I’ve got to get the mainsail down.”
Biff fought his way forward on the rain-slippery deck. He was pushed along by the driving wind. He reached the mainmast. Its lines were whipping against it, cracking like pistol shots. He loosened the mainsail halyard. The wind grabbed the mainsail. Biff struggled to pull it down. Suddenly there was a thunderous crack. The mainsail gave way, torn loose from its halyards. It stretched straight out like a flat, white canopy and flapped violently in the wind, which was now near gale force.
There was no way to cut it loose. Biff let the line go. The jibsail was still holding. Turning, Biff felt the rain and salt spray beat against his face. He had to bend into a crouch to make any progress aft. The salt spray stung his eyes, nearly blinding him.