At 10 pm I was woken up with a bucket of ice cold swiss mountain water to get my attention ( not true ) to come into the cock pit to judge a new situation. Anne determined a bunch of squalls on the screen of the radar and the wind was rising a bit. We opted to pull the sock down the over the gennaker (a very light big sail similar to a spinnaker or kite ). The smooth sailing conditions came to an abrupt end With the motor we tried to reach the area away from the squally black spots on the radar to return to easy sailing. Uwe forced Anne into bed for an hour plus or so, after which it was apparent that the 16-18 kn of wind accompanied with the proper waves were coming broadside. Poor Anne had to be ordered back out of her bunk to assist with retrieving the gennaker down to the deck, with the full moon above, the clouds illuminating the environment enough to accomplish the task. Once the sail was almost down on deck, a wave and a gust grabbed the light material and let it kiss the ocean that hungrily swallowed up a good part of it. With all my mighty power, hanging over the life line (and my life) heaving up and down with the elements of boat and sea. It was like pulling in a fishing net without holes in it but I managed to wrench it in finally. After the tangled mess was on deck I yelled through the wind to open the hatch in the main cockpit to stow the salt water drenched sail below decks. Anne commanded back in a clear understandable voice," that thing will not go below deck", period. It was like Cake or Death. I decided death is the only way out and stuffed the bloody pile into the sail bag. Back in the cockpit slightly tired with a bit of queasiness all around, Anne asked "what now"? The wind was now 16 to 24kn and would probably stay that way. I moved back into action to set up the sheets for the jib from bow to stern. That felt a bit better. Next: lets actually sail; jib rolled back in and Uwe back out. Anne steered Magnum into the wind and into the waves with me hanging on to raise the main sail and then reef it down, secure the lines and stuff. Back on course jib out a small bit, motor off, the sailing started once again. With 7 kn and exhausted toward Wessel Island almost a day away. By now we were quickly ensconced back into the way of ocean sailing and all that brings: seasickness, lack of appetite and difficulty of movement. Kara, as usual had no notion of the goings on, she slept almost through the whole thing, waking occasionally to remove the books that had fallen over her and wedged herself safely in between the blankets. Would we make it? Yes we would. Once in the lee of the islands we still had almost 30 knots of wind with waves pounding over us, but only many minutes more, we were anchored in the calm peaceful waters, with one other boat already anchored. Sleep came easily, 12 hours of it. We'll spend another night here before sailing the remaining 350 miles or so to Darwin. Yeah that's good isnt it? Oh, by the way the coast guard flew by in there pretty plane asking over the VHF Radio a few questions concerning the Australian Security and stuff and then warned us about a big crocodile swimming north of our boat in shallow water. A nice aussi couple we met on shore said yeah mate they are here. He answered to Anne's question what do you do when you see one " just smile at it"