One hot, weirdly still summer day during a delivery across the NE corner of the Gulf of Mexico (a/k/a the "Big Bend"), I found myself amidst eight or nine waterspouts - at least one appeared on nearly every point of the compass. The surface was glassy calm, without a hint of breeze and a low overcast. As I steered to avoid them, they moved across my bow and alongside. It was almost as if some of them tried to follow me, and I wound up doing countless radical course changes - 45, 90, 180 and ultimately 360 degrees. My track must have looked like a drunk's.
Thankfully they were slow and lumbering. My maximum speed of 9.6 knots was enough to dodge them, but we got close enough that from outside the pilothouse I could hear their hissing noise.