2nd person, present tense
Then:
It’s hot and humid, you sit on the middle of the boat, resting your head on the hollow, silver boom, as it gently swings back and forth. You look up at the main sail, creased, and still, as no air fills it. You take a deep breath, relaxing in the moment of silence, and feel the bitter air enter your lungs. As you lean forward to the halyard on the mast, pulling down the sail, your face gleams from the beams of sunlight hitting your face, as you move from the protection of the mainsail. As you continue pulling down the sail you slip, flailing into the water, you quickly grab onto the side of the boat and pull yourself back into the damp and worn out hull. You hang your feet off the edge of the stern, slowly, and silently dragging in the water. You can hear the quiet splashes of the small ripples, hitting the side of your boat. You stare into the sail, at the creases, and ripped stitches. You wrap the kicker end, into a neat, precise coil, to pass some time. You moor the boat, and step into the warm shallow water of the south sea, and cool yourself. As the sun begins to set, you clamber back into the boat, and lean on the mast, watching the sunset, till nightfall, enjoying the rare occurrence of warm weather.
Now:
You hurdle yourself across the boat when tacking up wind, as the boom swings with the force of a bullet, easily enough to knock you out. Your sail luffs, before the wind empowers your boat into a steep heel, filling the worn sails with air. Rapidly, you release the main sheet, careless as it rips through the skin of your palms, in a struggled effort to prevent the inevitable.
As you pass the windward marker, being thrown down wind, your face gets pelted, by the spray, reaching meters high, going far up your nose, causing you to irrationally cough, on the sickening taste of strong salt water, loosing control of your boat. You wipe your face, as you regain control, and hike out. You look to your hand, cut, and stained by blood, but the breeze so cool, pain cannot be felt.
You look behind you to see the array of boats, thrown off course, with crews shouting in an attempt to recover their boats, and safety RIBs coming towards them in an effort to recover the crews.
The boat jolts you back, as you go down a wave, and you can feel the light spray brush your face as your bow pops up, as you begin to plane.
Whilst gybing, you hear a loud crack, and look up to see a tear in the sail, leading to a small fracture on the rivet on the centre piece of the mast.
You hear the loud ping of the kicker falling out of the hook, hitting the bow, as the boom swings, narrowly missing your head. The boat then rapidly heels, and in an effort to reduce speed, you swiftly pull in the main sheet, but you can feel the soaked, rough sheet, slipping from your bloody, and worn hands.
React!