3am, 30knot winds, a drift in Tobago Cays

Sleeping at anchor is a lot like having an infant in a cradle at your bedside. You sleep with ears open wide.

Bonk.
"...what? Uhh, Oernulf, I think I heard something... Let's check the anchor." We're both up and can't understand what we're seeing. It's dark, blowing, and wet. We're real near a couple boats. But, hey!, they're not our "boat neighbors" from when we went to bed!? We're broadside the boats now, luckily floating between them. Fast! Next stop, reef? The motor's running, bimini down in no time. Oernulf's forward to pull up the anchor.
No anchor. !?
The chain stops just short of where the anchors were. ?? The chain has broken. The weakest link? We've been drifting out towards the reefs in 25, 30 knots of wind.

But we have control of the boat now. It's still dark and stormy but we have a deep pool between the islands, Pt.Rameau and Pt.Bateau and the (mostly lit) anchor-lights from the sailboats to motor back and forth on. So we consider our possibilities as we motor up and down the 10m deep pool. We have good way-points out of the reefs and could just sail on to ... somewhere. It's 3am now and a blinding squall is suddenly over us. The drenching rain is not cold, but we pull out the foul-weather gear.
It's ten minutes back and ten minutes forth, that's 20 minutes a round. Like swimming laps.


Three hours of laps later, it's daybreak.
As the black skies grow grey in the East we decide we've had enough. The weather's still foul, and the boats are sound asleep. We don't have any way of fetching up the anchors on our own.

We weave our way out between yachts and reefs. And head for a mooring in Bequia.