Night Sails

Sailing at night is both scary and wondrous.  We've had two night sails now.  One from Annapolis to Cape May, NJ.  The other from Cape May to Sandy Hook, NJ.  Both times there were only three of us on the boat: me, Jeff and Dave.  We tried to overlap watches, but that didn't work out too well.  Even off watch, the engine was so noisy and the seas in the Delaware Bay and out in the ocean were very rolly, that sleeping was not possible.  Dave and Jeff took the first watch.  When I came up later, on my first watch, I overlapped with Jeff.  Jeff was so tired by the time I came on that I encouraged him to sleep in the salon on the couch.  I promised that if I needed him, I could simply call him and he could be in the cockpit in a few seconds.  He agreed and I was alone.

The sky is amazing at night.  When you get away from the cities and towns, it suddenly comes to life.  There are thousands of stars and planets that now shine down from the blackness.  The sea is black itself, but in their light and a partial moon, you can sea foam that our wake creates.  Everything is so massive at night, it's a bit daunting.  The sky is so full of specks of light from so far away and the water beneath the boat is so deep, I feel caught between to limitless spaces.  Perhaps that's where my uneasiness comes from.  

I was looking for Venus in the sky.  I was in the Delaware Bay and the waves were about 3-6 feet.  Our boat was like a toy being played with, as we rocked back and forth and fought the current.  The wind was also at odds but Sirius did well carving a path through the water.  Suddenly, up ahead and up high, I noticed what looked like two headlights shining right at me.  My first instinct was that this was a plane, but the lights were quite bright and coming closer.  It screwed with my night vision and I blinked several times.  I was just about to wake Jeff, when it turned away from me and toward the distant shore.  I saw no red or green lights, but when it turned I saw four white lights in formation, like points of a diamond, receding.  Earlier that afternoon, when we had passed under the Bay Bridge, we saw some Blue Angel jets pass overhead.  I thought maybe they were still doing drills and it might account for the four lights.  Afterburners?  Other than the engine noise and the wind and waves, I heard no sound.  I couldn't understand what I was seeing.  I called Jeff then and he scampered topside.  However, being awakened and trying to focus on the receding lights, now quite faint, he wasn't able to see anything too well.

Later Dave came up to start his shift.  I told him what I had seen.  UFO, he stated.  We laughed, but it left me uneasy...