All is well aboard Sarah Jean, sort of. That is except for the recent deaths. But more on that later. We had an excellent first passage day making 154 miles close reaching southward along our course line. The wind has now backed to the northeast allowing us to adjust our heading to aim directly towards Opua. The seas have continued to settle down and there are fewer and fewer big swells. The latest weather forecast looks very positive for the balance of the voyage. We are happy to see no changes or surprises!

Now to the terrible drama. Last night, DEATH, cruel and indiscriminate, stalked the dark and rolling decks of Sarah Jean, wielding his remorseless scythe without mercy. This tale is not for the faint of heart. Read on only if you must.

The first victims were found on the deck this morning, their cold bodies tangled in the running rigging amid a scattering of silvery scales, evidence of a mighty struggle. They were two flying fish, a large one and a small one. They lay together, their gossamer wings, now rigid, draped over each other in a final embrace. Who were they? Why were they on our deck? Our inquiring minds wanted to know. Perhaps they were father and son, taking a first flight together, a real life Marlin and Nemo, but with a tragic ending. Wrong time, wrong place. Or perhaps they were a young couple, madly in love, leaping and cavorting amongst the surging whitecaps with all the vitality and recklessness of youth, flying up out of the deep with towards the stars. Then kablam, the hand of fate and a wall of fiberglass and polyester braid brought it all to an end! How sad. The lifeless and now smelly embracing fish were dispatched back to the sea. No doubt they were then gobbled up by bigger and smarter fish and thus they continued along their way in the ocean's vast circle of life.

The third death was more tragic. Mr. Kobo is no longer with us. In a tiny puff of silicon smoke and a last desperate uttering of garbled words across his shattered screen. Mr. Kobo expired as the full force of Beth's knee bore down on him. Of course it was an accident. It was dark and she was moving about the cockpit last night, adjusting the sails as must be done when the wind shifts or changes speed. I feel so badly for Beth. It must be so difficult to lose a friend and kill a friend all at the same time. What's worse, she had finished only Book One in a gripping Three Book Trilogy. She is coping well and has found comfort in a paperback book and is actually enjoying the feel of paper in her hands once again.

Do not mourn for Mr. Kobo. His contents, well over 100 electronic books, many unread, have not left this world, for he was merely a vessel, a bucket bringing water from our well of literary abundance. Our books are preserved in a virtual library on line and can be resurrected should we buy another Mr. Kobo. This of course leads to a dilemma; to buy another electronic reader or to succumb to the temptation of the seductive iPad. As we all know, Steve Jobs was a clever fellow; to touch an iPad is to want one. And touch them we have. But that decision is for another day. There are no Apple stores out here. So today we say a fond farewell to Mr. Kobo as he lays in his little red leather case, his lifeless screen looking up at us. That screen is now a death mask, a collage of book covers, random sentences and help menus, a wonderful abstract art display, a summation of his life and purpose. No doubt he will live on, his plastic recycled into colorful pot scrubbers and his electronics recycled into the sound chips for Hallmark greeting cards. Who knows what the future holds. Good bye Mr. Kobo, we've enjoyed our time together.

We will get over this sad day, dear friends. Thank you for being there!

Until tomorrow . . .