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They clung to the weather rigging as foam laced rivers clawed across the deck. Spume tinged waves writhed and tossed on the surface as if in agony. White foam, greenish-grey water, and leaden-coloured sky were all that lay in our path. Shamwari's three crew looked at one another, took a deep breath, and pressed on. Punto Evaristo lay twenty-three miles to windward.
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