"Sewing machine"  has a different meaning to me these days, than it did when growing up, because of one incident.

About 200 miles away from any land (except down, of course), an extreme storm tossed our 42 ft ferro cement ketch, "Pet Rock", around, for one entire day, until the biggest sail we could hoist, to head us into the wind, was no bigger than a pillowcase.

We had sea anchors made up from heavy  doubled ropes to slow us when speeding down the  heavy swells,  and prevent us tumbling end over end. Aching and cranky, tired and hungry we wedged ourselves in, as best we could and outlasted it. No sleep.

Next morning in the calmness that followed, we hoisted the mainsail and found a serious rip. It had to be repaired.

We had a sewing machine on board, one of those little portable electric one...but with a difference!!!!

We removed the motor, fitted a handle, threaded it with needle and sailmakers thread, got part of the large bulky sail down into the small cabin...then...

Deepwater became the motor,

K. was the sailmaker,

and M fed the material through.

Each of us wedged against something solid to avoid the rolling of the vessel from disturbing our project.

K. tapped on my foot ...I opened up full rotational power on the handle...he let up...I stopped. K called.. left,..right,.... M moved the sail bodily.

After a few inches of sewing .....we were in the groove baby. That repair lasted for many months more.

M and I  giggled away to ourselves tonight remembering our 3 person sewing machine.