Ruby Anderson

It's a motley crew spanning a broad spectrum of age and experience.

But on a straightforward voyage like this, they can afford to have a few novices on board.

They won't be straying too far from the coastline, maintaining visual contact with land for most of the journey.

Barring something completely unexpected, they'll be at Ningaloo in a couple of weeks' time, diving the beautiful coral reef.

It's the middle of the night, about six hours after the Impala II left Rottnest Island.

As forecasted, the wind has increased throughout the night.

All around the 40-foot yacht, the dark ocean seethes with snarling whitecaps and big thundering breakers.

The air on deck is filled with lashing spray and the furious flapping of sails.

The crew takes it in turn to go and watch, grabbing snatches of sleep when they can.

But the incessant lurching makes it hard to get any decent rest.

Sea sickness has descended and the sound of the crews retching and heaving underscores the relentless pounding of the waves.

At one stage during the night, Glenn notices that the dinghy, which had been attached to the stern, has disappeared, presumably ripped off by the force of the waves.

Eventually dawn appears through cracks in the night sky.

The darkness lifts around the yacht, heralding a welcome end to a miserable night.

But there's no let up from the rough conditions.

The gray sea undulates ahead of them in a rolling expanse of heavy swell, its surface veined with tendrils of white foam.

Glenn looks around at the weather-beaten faces of his crew.

Ruby, in particular, looks like she needs a break.

After a night without any food or water, the 11-year-old's face is pallid and drawn.

For the benefit of everyone, Glen plans a change of course.