Wednesday, May 16. When I awakened this AM, we were facing West, but there was no wind. By the time we had had breakfast, we had made a full 360* and had a rain shower, but still no wind. We talked with Salida on SSB. They were struck by lightening last night during a squall and lost their autopilot and chart plotter. After much work, Craig was able to get the chart plotter up, but the autopilot was toast. Glad we stayed put. Nonetheless with the wind clocking around like this, better to be in a place with 360* protection. So we motored back to French Cay Harbor. Initially we were making great time, 6.1 kts, on glassy sea. Reminded me of the lyric from the Eric Stone song, “the ocean looked like a lake.” Then we came to the line of black clouds. It stretched nearly horizon to horizon and was anchored on the North by a thunderhead. It was so low, it looked like our mast might puncture it and let the rain out, but so far it wasn't raining. We got under it without getting wet, but the wind went from 5.8 apparent (@ SOG=6.1) to 25 apparent (@SOG= 2.9), from dead ahead of course. Oh well we only had a few miles to go and the seas were still flat, only a bit of wind chop. On the other side of the line squall (can you call it that even if it is not raining?), the winds dropped again and we made French Cay Harbor by 12:30. We set the anchor extra well, laid out extra chain before and after the kellet, and I dove it to confirm it was well set. We should be good in any kind of a blow. In moderate winds we will rotate about the kellet and in strong winds the anchor is well buried to hold us. And we have plenty of swing room around us. We be safe. After lunch we went back to the iguana farm. Deb had scraps to feed them and wanted to buy gifts for Christmas in July when we get home. We bought enough that they gave us “special price” on much of it so I didn't get to dicker. We had sundowners watching the lack of sunset and then seared local tuna, conch salad, and fruit salad for dinner while listening to Jimmy Buffet, followed by rum & cigars in the tramp watching the clouds part and the stars come out. I still think this whole thing is much ado over nothing, but we are safe and not suffering too badly.