It wasn’t their noise that captured our attention, it was the black bottomed clouds, from which the spouts emerged. After an uneventful day of light rain, clearing skies and brownie baking, suddenly we were among the thunderheads. The dark fingers of water that reached from the clouds to the ocean surface seemed to be the work of Voldemort or some other malign agent. Eulalie turned on the radar, which captured the storm impulses as distinct targets on our chart plotter. By avoiding the targets, Elizabeth Jean again safely passed north.