I could hear the waves all night, their white, frothy tops rolling over and onto themselves, sliding down the wave face and lifting the 65-footer up like a balloon. Sometimes the boat floated back down. Sometimes she sat suspended, momentarily, before gravity repossessed control of the situation and she plunged into flybridge-high troughs. The boat’s spine repeatedly hyperextended as our crew’s spines compressed. Welcome to October in the North Atlantic.