The Great Bahamas trip: Part 3 / Bimini to Nassau
Two Years Before the Mast – Bimini to Nassau
The intrepid crew of the mighty ship Elice II had arrived in Bimini on the 28th day of January, 2009. The last day of January was a sad day aboard Elice II as it was the Admirals last day with us. We rode the water taxi and caught the jitney to the airport to see her off. She was a great shipmate and will be greatly missed.
The Skipper informed me that with the Admiral gone, all the responsibility fell upon him now and on occasion, I might have to flog myself. That night we dined with uncharacteristic silence aboard on beef stew and rice. Things are not going to be the same from here on out. I fear that discipline will suffer. 
On Tuesday the 3rd of February, the Skipper and I cast off at 0800hrs eastern standard time and raised the mainsail as we steamed out of the harbor into a strong west wind and 6 to 8 foot seas. Turning south along the coast the Skipper ordered the engine shut down and we sailed down the coast of Bimini, retracing our route. Upon passing onto the Grand Bahama Bank and through the Turtle Rocks, the large ocean waves were left behind and we sailed on the smooth quiet waters of the bank with the bottom clearly in sight. Rounding the waypoint off Cat Cay, we unfurled the jib and were soon flying along at speeds sometimes hitting 8 knots. The bottom of the ocean, a mere ten feet below us appeared to be flying by at great speed.
We had drug the green skirt down the Gulf of Mexico, across the Gulf Stream, and it seemed appropriate to string it out and continue our trolling program.
The day seemed to slip by all too quick and with the sun low in the Western sky, the Skipper ordered the main furled and we continued under the jib alone at 5 to 6 knots. Darkness settled over us, but the moving map and radar kept us safe and on course as we plowed through the night. I passed the whole day without a flogging, see, discipline is already slipping. Around 2200hrs, we sailed past the Northwest Channel Light and watched the depth sounder go from twenty feet to off soundings within a mile as we sailed off the bank and into the Tongue of The Ocean. 
As I had napped during the day in my cabin to the Skippers “lazy sea scum!” the Skipper went down for a short rest as we were in deep water and he mumbled something like “even an idiot can run the boat out here.” So, suddenly, I am the Officer of the Watch! Gliding along in the night with the autohelm steering, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. I told myself to relax, “nothing can go wrong out here!”
Then I saw a spot on the radar out around 15 miles where nothing should be. I tried wiping the spot off with a towel. Thirty minutes later I saw lights ahead and the spot on the radar had moved! Oh Turds! A ship was coming directly at us. I tagged the ship with the cursor the way the Skipper had taught me and the MARPA window told me that the ship would pass one quarter mile off my port side. I touched the button on the autopilot and the radar now said that the ship would pass one half mile off the left side. That was much better. I watched the behemoth pass through my binoculars and wondered what kind of grub was being served in their mess tonight. I politely asked the autopilot to turn back on course, but then I saw more lights ahead and the radar confirmed that they were coming toward me too. I turned back away from the rhumb line and watched the mega yacht pass, wondering what gourmet meal was being served in their dining room tonight. I was about to turn back on course when I noticed another target on the radar and half an hour later watched another freighter pass off our port side, wondering what kind of grub was being served in their mess tonight.
Soon, with all the traffic behind us, I was headed to rejoin the rhumb line when the Skipper came back on deck and immediately saw that we were off course. After the flogging, I told him I had deviated for traffic. He looked around and said, “What traffic?” He flogged me again for lying. He is a fine Skipper and is determined to make a sailor out of me. 
The turn toward Nassau as we came off the Great Bahama Bank put the wind directly off the stern, but as we were in the lee of the Berry Islands, the seas were calm and the ride good. About two in the morning when we cleared the Berry Islands though, the seas started running pretty high. It was hard to tell in the dark. The Skipper said they were running about six feet, but I think it was more like thirty six. With the wind on the stern, the sail was not providing any roll stability and the mighty ship began to roll from side to side as she sailed along straight as an arrow at 6 knots and greater. The ride was very uncomfortable and we could hear crashes below as the contents of the cabins began to scramble themselves again as they had back in the Gulf Stream. Our arrival time at the sea buoy at Nassau Harbor was at five in the morning, so we had three hours to hang on as our vessel ran for New Providence Island like a runaway horse. 
At a little after four in the morning with the lights of Nassau clearly in sight and the boat still rolling violently at six and a half knots, I went to reel in the green skirt, only to discover that a fish was pulling hard on it in the other direction. The Skipper gave me a look that would freeze seawater. I began fighting the fish as I tried to hang on for dear life in the rolling cockpit. After what seemed like forever, I was soaked with sweat in spite of the coldness of the night at sea. I had caught a monster of a fish that must have been 10 feet long, even though the skipper says it was only 3 feet long. With the whale up to the boat we went back to navigating the boat through the ship channel into the quiet stillness of the sheltered waters of Nassau Harbor. It was still pitch dark and all the shore lights were blinding. We could barely see the cruise ship docks as we slipped past, furling the sails and becoming a motor vessel. At this point, we had drug the poor fish till he was very unhappy. I reeled him up and tried to lift him into the cockpit, but he was just too heavy and the line broke. With the ship underway in a dark harbor, losing the fish was the best thing that could have happened to us at that time. We crept through the darkness, under the Paradise Island bridges, and landed on the outside dock at Nassau Yacht Haven Marina, tying up and securing the boat as the sky turned grey in the East. I went to my bunk to get some rest as the Skipper straightened up the boat and did all the work. Later that afternoon, he flogged me for an hour. We have completed another great passage in our epic adventure. Can we have a moment of silence for the loss of the green skirt? Stay tuned for the next episode.
Filed Under: Travels
About the Author: Nat Manning is a retired law enforcement pilot and local legend with marine towing companies. His sailing skills are unsurpassed when it comes to handling a large boat while imbibing in his favorite rum beverage. Captain Manning is quickly becoming a local folk hero with his above average skills at scarring the hell out of unsuspecting local fish resting peacefully under his boat.