It was the first big ocean race in eight years. The sailors, mostly salty socialites, sweated in Newport's Brenton Cove to get their 34 yachts ready. A few first-timers got jitters; in the past a boat or two had sunk on the 635-mile thrash to Bermuda.
The small boats got off in fine weather, close-hauled in a fresh breeze. Eight hours later, the big ones lit out in pursuit and disappeared into a fog bank to the southwest. The breeze stayed fresh all the first day & night, the seas quiet. Nobody got sick. Most skippers, leery of the Gulf Stream's northeastward...
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