SUMMER 2019SW059winch. In the meantime, far away on the
bow, 10 more sailors are executing a cho-
reographed and synchronized routine to
get the spinnaker tack down and the sheet
around thick shrouds. The timing is impec-
cable. The jibe is perfect and with the boat
quiet, we are quickly up to speed again.
Over four years of sailing with the
Perseus 3 team, the focus in most of our
debriefs is on improving communication
between the dierent teams manning parts
of the boat. As tactician on the flybridge,
I don’t have a direct line of sight to the aft-
deck team—and with the bow team 65 feet
farther forward, yelling is pointless. The con-
temporary way of running superyachts is to
have dierent squads.
There is the speed team, the maneuvers
team, and the afterguard, which includes
the tactician, navigator and helmsman. As
tactician, my philosophy is to be more of
a conductor, streamlining the communica-
tions to keep a quiet boat.
We’re approaching the downwind mark.
This is the most crucial moment of boat-
handling we’ll have all day. A sock snus
the spinnaker to make manhandling it to
the deck more manageable, but to get the
1,200-pound anaconda on the boat still
requires a coordinated eort involving all
25 crew. Our Irish mid-bow team get the job
done with incredible eciency.
We turn the corner and are soon reaching
for the next mark. Behind us, misfortune
comes to Hyperion as their headsail splits
in the steadily increasing winds. It’s a sign
of things to come as dark clouds gather in
front of us. The Caribbean islands are known
for steady trade winds and beautiful sunny
days, but the sky now looks like the arrival
of Armageddon. Ahead of us, clouds darken,
and I can see the wind building, pushing a
thick gray wall of rain.
“Big gust coming in five,” I alert the crew.
The gust sweeps across Perseus. We
ease the sails quickly, but the force of the
wind tips us like a little dinghy. The flybridge
dashboard lights up like a Christmas tree
and Burger is trying to mute the deafening
sound of various alarms. The side decks are
awash with green water rushing ravenously
along the cabin. The skies break open, emp-
tying their contents. All of us are drenched
within seconds. It is impossible to see
much beyond the bow of the boat or hear
each other over the drumming raindrops.
Like an ancient Greek battle, it is Poseidon
versus Perseus. Finally, our Medusa-slaying
demigod regains her composure, and with
blue skies reappearing, we trim in the sails
and continue our lap around St. Barths.
In front, Rosehearty, evades the worst
of the squall, so we have our work cut
out to try and pass. Fortunately, the next
part of the race is a beat. This is where our
yacht excels. The speed team is constantly
adjusting finding the right trim of the sails,
so the yacht is balanced and drives itself.
There’s a hushed chatter between the helm
and trimmers, small adjustments, that is it,
nicely in the groove.
With good speed, we close the gap with
Rosehearty, and she is well within our reach
when we reach the corner at the top of the
island. Though Perseus was famously giftedspeedy wings by Hermes, on the beam
reach the ketch-rigged Rosehearty is fast
and manages to extend its lead again.
But there’s still the final run to the finish.
“Good course, no lower than this,” I remind
the speed team. There are a couple of rocky
outcrops to go around. This is where the
navigator earns his paycheck.
“Ready on bow. Tack out.”
From bow to stern, there is a flurry of
activity. Winches spin, the bow crew guides
the spinnaker below the foot of the jib as
the electric winch pulls it skyward.
“Bearing away.”
The spinnaker reaches top of the mast.
“Bucket up.”
The jib is rolled away, its enormous furling
unit whining below the foredeck. The big
spinnaker fills again and the speedo makes
its climb to 14 knots. Will it be enough?
We are much faster than Rosehearty.
The wind freshens, pushing us along with
another knot of boatspeed. Another good
pu and there’s even more in the tank.
A win today would earn the trophy we have
all be working so hard for. The distance to
Rosehearty is steadily decreasing. We need
more runway. With one-tenth of a mile to the
finish, Rosehearty crosses the line ahead
of us. We keep sailing the boat perfectly
trimmed until the finish line is in our wake.
Win or lose, sailing Perseus is an absolute
pleasure for everyone on board. We take
second overall in our class, which is a step
up from the last time we raced in St. Barths.
We have one more step to go to reach the
top of the superyacht scene.
We take pride in our finish, but more
importantly, we make note of the stellar
team spirit. We’re always improving, focus-
ing on team building and making sure the
owners have the best experience possi-
ble. Sailing these enormous yachts means
extending lots of trust and having the
patience of a saint to let the team fig-
ure out things themselves. Humor, too, is
essential. Conversations must remain light
when things go wrong, so we can find a con-
structive way to solve any problem. Keeping
the mood light might not sound cutthroat
and competitive, but it is essential to the
success and popularity of superyacht
racing. If we’re having fun, we’re winning.
If there is one thing St. Barths serves, it’s
fun on shore. The vibrant restaurant scene
provides the perfect setting for traditional
all-crew dinners to conclude the event. With
minds intensely focused all week, it is now
time to relax and kick back. Our Irish con-
tingent excel in this regard, and halfway
through dinner the entire team is dancing
on the tables and singing loudly, providing
an unforgettable climax to an exceptional
regatta for the family that chartered the
Hermes-winged Grand Dame of the ocean. Q