did not get much sleep last night, thinking all the time about the bowsprit. I had the impression that Henry Wakelam was there, close to me. From time to time I mumbled, ‘Good God, if you were here, you would have already figured a way to straighten it.’ Yesterday, as I worked on the shrouds, the problem of the bowsprit hovered in the background, and I felt my friend’s breath and presence next to me. I talked to him from time to time; I would ask him not to drop the crescent wrench we were using to tighten the cable clamps. And he helped quietly, without lecturing me, without a word on the
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Lots of people experience this in times of crisis.
