Ice blue eyes met silver and held for several seconds before the latter pair looked away. "Don't let her get to you big girl." Bertrand assured his big yacht. One Australia tossed her head, shooting one last glare at Black Magic. The big New Zealander was a formidable opponent and in their last race, had suffered the first defeat of her nearly 40 race career. It was a streak that One Australia was determined to keep alive. She had to if she was going to make it to the Cup itself. 3 minutes to the start and the two yachts were about to heat up their prestart maneuvering. 2 minutes, Black Magic came at her on starboard forcing One Australia to move for the right of way boat. She was nearly forced over the line early but saved herself with a last minute tack that put her to leeward of the black boat. Having the rights now she forced the Kiwi into irons just as she did in their previous race. It worked once again and with seconds to the start, One Australia was cruising on ahead with her opponent left in her wake.

Once the horn sounded, the race was on! One Australia was in the perfect covering position and each time Black Magic tacked to find clear air, she tacked to cover. It was an advantage of being to windward. The disadvantage was that the Kiwi had rights on her and could luff her up if she wasn't careful so One Australia kept enough horizontal distance between them to prevent that. Rounding the first mark, the gray-white boat had a 20 second lead on her opponent. Her spinnaker launching was textbook and she began to put some open water between them. At her helm, Bertrand could feel the power of his yacht as she raced across the waters off San Diego. But that wasn't the only thing he was in tune to. He was listening to her breathing, the rhythm of her stride. Was she struggling? Was she tense? One Australia was not the type of boat to relax during a race. She gave it her all when she went out. Her muscles were taut with tension but she progressed easily. Each powerful stride sending her 70 feet closer to the finish. Bertrand felt confident that if he asked her, she'd give him more run. She was in "cruise control" at the moment.

"And it's One Australia in command around the first mark." On the committee boat sat a host of people. Judges, owners, and standing out on deck with a pair of binoculars was course announcer Pat Healy. As chairman of the committee, he was responsible for the safety of the boats and their crews. It was his call that allowed One Australia and Black Magic to race today. He had no idea he and thousands of others both in San Diego and watching the race live around the world, were about to witnesses the most tragic event in America's Cup history.

As One Australia rounded the windward mark, Bertrand took a glance behind him. Black Magic had made up some ground on the last leg. She was faster than his boat and it would take all his skill to keep her from overtaking them. An easy spinnaker drop worked in the gray boat's favor as the Kiwi's sail went in the water. It took them a minute to get it stowed away properly and during that time One Australia was getting away. Not for long. Coming around for the beat to windward, Black Magic just exploded. The black boat had a phenomenal turn of foot and like her mother Kiwi Magic, could get the job done in record times! Approaching the bottom of the course once more One Australia's lead had evaporated. Black Magic gained ground on the inside, forcing the gray boat to give her room at the mark. Having the shortest course the black boat quickly took command coming out of the turn despite a far better spinnaker set by her opponent. "And it's Black Magic who takes the lead around the leeward mark. Beautiful spinnaker set by One Australia but will it be enough to catch the black boat from New Zealand?!" On board One Australia, Bertrand could feel his boat's frustration. He patted the wheel. "Plenty of race left, big girl. We'll catch her again." He assured. One Australia settled back into rhythm, her pace slightly more intense than before. She began to close on the black boat, slowly at first but it quickly became apparent that One Australia was gaining. "Black Magic has the lead as they close in on mark 4 but just look at One Australia! One Australia is closing the gap rapidly, she might just get up in time to have an overlap. Can she do it?" Looking at Black Magic as she got bigger and bigger in his view, Bertrand believed he could. He adjusted course, steering to port of the black boat. One Australia called on all her class as she just managed to squeeze in, forcing Black Magic out wide as the two rounded. Now in command once more, the course was set for the finish. One Australia knew Black Magic was close behind her but she paid no attention to the Kiwi boat. Her focus was on the water ahead. "This is it, big girl." Bertrand said to her. "Just you and me. Come on!" He gave her a tap with his helm extender and getting the message, One Australia shot forward. The acceleration was such that Bertrand had to grip the wheel hard to keep from flying off. "And it's One Australia! She leads by 10 seconds, now 12. She's continuing to widen with each and every stride!" It was bad luck to be smiling before the race was won but Bertrand couldn't keep the grin off his face. His yacht was magnificent! With this win, she could go on to face America3 in the finals and One Australia could certainly beat that Yank upstart! The Cup would go back to Australia!

This dream was literally shattered seconds later. One Australia leaped off a rather large swell, hull groaning at the change in pressure. She came down hard. There was as loud snap. To Bertrand it sounded like breaking a dry twig over a fire but looking down he could see it was much more serious. The middle of her cabin beneath the mainmast had caved in. Bertrand snapped out the main, dumping all the wind out of the sail. One Australia hadn't made a sound but she screamed now as Bertrand attempted to pull her up just 175 feet from the finish. He was having a time of it, his yacht fighting him for every foot and for a minute, she was winning. Bertrand could hear the sickening sounds of her broken hull slapping together, a harsh knocking grinding sound that got progressively worse. The two halves of the break began to separate, with each half de-laminating from the other. After a few more yards, Bertrand was successful in getting his yacht stopped. The chase boats came alongside to take off the crew and with a nod from their captain, the eight men leaped over the side. Bertrand himself tied down the helm and took a leap but off the opposite side. He needed to see the damage himself. Paddling up to One Australia's bow he got a hold of her forestay and used it as a leadline, bringing her head around. He hit the careen pressure point and got her on her side. And sweet lord what it showed! "There seems to be something wrong with One Australia. She's stopped. The chase boats have come alongside and the crew is getting in them. Oh, it looks to be her starboard keel faring. You can see, the hull's buckled inwards. Oh, and the mainmast has driven down as well, I have never seen an injury this bad before. This is not good ladies and gentleman."

Bertrand touched the hull and his fingers were immediately coated in blood. "Damn it!" He struck the water. One Australia gave an inquisitive whimper. Her breaths were harsh, teeth bared against the pain. Smaller waves hit the pair as Black Magic went right on by to the finish, a tantalizing 50 feet away. Bertrand sighed. "It's not your fault big girl." His right hand stroked her nose. "You did good. You did very good." Unseen by her, his left hand was reaching down to his belt. All crewman carried a knife in case they ever got caught up in the rigging but the blades could serve a second purpose as well. And it was one that Bertrand had no choice but to use now. From his nearby position on the committee boat, Leahy saw this and knew what was to come. He was reluctant to speak but he had his job. "Black Magic comes to the line now and she walks over it! This match race is over. Bertrand is looking over the damage and has determined it to be too serious to repair. For those of you watching this I encourage you to turn your heads away. This won't be pretty." Bertrand pulled the knife from his sheath, resting it across her shoulder. One Australia whimpered and struggled a bit, trying to rise. She knew what was about to happen. Bertrand was quick to soothe her. "Easy! Easy! You're alright. Shh, shh..." He readied his knife, hand shaking. A rigging line came down and steadied it. He looked back, then down at her once more as he took several deep breaths. She nodded, giving him her silent permission. "I'm so sorry." He said and drove the knife home. 12 meters were known to have strong sturdy skeletons but when they lay on their side, a gap would open up between the scapula and the sternum. It was a small gap and only a specially designed blade could fit. A blade issued only to the boat's crew should the worst happen. Used for centuries it was the quickest method to dispatch an injured or disabled vessel and most preferred it to the more modern method of an anesthesia overdose. One Australia gave a half-squeal, then fell silent. It was over in seconds. Blood burbled out around the blade, coating Bertrand's hand. It was still warm and gave off a metallic reek. He let go of the handle and his bloody fingers stroked his yacht's lifeless hull. He leaned down over her face, kissing her cheek. He sat there for a few moments, gathering himself. Then he removed his knife, letting the water clean it off. The chase boat came alongside and picked him up.

Black Magic circled around. She seemed confused as to what had transpired. She recalled seeing One Australia pass in front. Had something gone wrong? She came alongside and lowered her head to sniff the gray yacht. Immediately her demeanor changed. Head down, ice blue eyes darkened, the subdued Kiwi got One Australia by the back of her neck and began dragging her. Bertrand made to stop her but collected himself. He was curious to see what Black Magic was up to. The crowd was silent as the black boat dragged her opponent across the finish line, then looked to the committee boat a silent message in her eyes. She might've won, but this race belonged to One Australia. Then she calmly brought her back around to where she was before. She set One Australia down and played with her rigging, centering the boom and tightening the backstay and the forestay as best she could. The half lowered jib was raised. Bertrand gasped as he realized what she was doing. When a high ranking sail ship died it was a military custom to have the sails set though drawn taught and secured so they didn't catch the wind by accident. The only yacht to have this done to her was America in 1945. Now One Australia was recieving the honor. Once finished, Black Magic nosed her around so her nose pointed towards the finish line. Then she backed off, head bowed. Three boatlengths away, she raised it again and gave the loudest howl Bertrand had ever heard. It was a cry joined by all the other boats in the area. People removed their hats, and some cried. Knife still in hand, his fingers, clothes, and parts of his face stained with blood, Bertrand looked back at One Australia's still form and said "She was the best I ever commanded."

RIP One Australia

(April 2, 1992-March 6, 1995)