We were pushing the little boats about as fast as they would go, and I was holding onto the flybridge railing, scanning the horizon for any sign of Barta’s boat. The seas were building in the afternoon sea breeze, and the little boat hit a wave that almost stopped it cold. The railing in my hand snapped like a dry twig and sent me hurtling outboard, with one hand reaching out and grabbing the bottom rail after twisting completely around on my one good knee. I felt a pop and watched as my knee started to swell to the size of a basketball. Just about that time, we spotted Barta and came upon one of the most bizarre sights I’ve ever seen on the water to date. The boat’s captain was standing at the helm in his underwear and was shouting instructions to Barta and the crew below, whose heads were sticking out of the lazarette! The quick-thinking captain had used his clothes to stuff in the transom holes to try and keep them afloat. It worked. In the end, my leg stayed on and Barta and his crew were rescued, with the best story by far from the trip!