Status Updates From Left For Dead: 30 Years On ...

A little cliche and underwhelming for your closer given the gravity of the story: "But one thing is for sure: however hard they try, however experienced they are, however many weather forecasts they hear, the thing that cannot be changed is Mother Nature. "

Pretty forgiving: I wanted to tell him what
we'd been through when they had left us. But I couldn't. I knew he had enough to think about. I also felt that if I took things
any further, our already strained companionship might turn into open animosity. So that was that. It was all small talk after
that — but with an underlying air of tension.

Very honest, if still fairly boring: "I wanted to tell him what we'd been through when they had left us. But I couldn't. I knew he had enough to think about. I also felt that if I took things any further, our already strained companionship might turn into open animosity. So that was that. It was all small talk after that — but with an underlying air of tension."

Obviously contaminated with salt, Ward's ingestion of "rain water" is more evidence for the Bombard theory: "I got on all fours and licked rain from the deck — every corner, every inch got scoured until I was satisfied I had every drop."

The reader coaching themselves through this section of the book: "I propped Gerry up, then returned to routine: the cycle of bailing and resting, resting and bailing. I made concerted efforts to keep my brain alert and active."

I GOT THE FRIGGING BUCKET!

This storm was bigger than any of us or any race. Grimalkin and her crew were being crushed by this heavyweight bruiser. We were all suffering from the body blows, the knockdown punches....
Nobody could have prepared us for this. There were no rules, no boundaries to this fight, for a fight it now was — we were fighting for our lives.

And we were now far out in the western approaches. It would be fatal to simply turn round on a reciprocal course — the seas were too steep.

Somehow, somewhere, somebody had got this forecast desperately wrong. We were left with no option but to tough the night out.

We had already sailed into the eye of this unforeseen storm.

Grimalkin had reached the point of no return.

Not exactly lyrical; inconsistent tone, but good, workmanlike prose:

The starting gun fired. Grimalkin was one of the first boats across the line, vying for position with Green Dragon...
The first tack we put in was a slick one. Dave described it as 'shit hot' — and he was right. Timed again to perfection, there was no need for Matt to go forward or for Mike to clear the genoa or for me to use the winch handle.