We had been adrift for about two weeks when I decided to try and document these events. We had been shipwrecked in a maelstrom that came whipping up out of the south without warning. It was night time and we had all believed we were safe. Around 2am I noticed the swells bobbing the boat up nad down like a cork in a bathtub. I ventured up to the helm to see if I could help. the captain had gone as white as sea foam. That frightened me. I tried not to panic because panic spreads like disease among bilge rats. Fighting the pitch and roll of the ship I staggered back to my bunk and started collecting my small amount of valuables. You can’t own too many things when you are a sailor for the very reason of storms and possible shipwrecks. I laoded a small plastic bag with my journal, a few pens, a silver lighter I stole from a man in Singapore, a folding knife that I had won in a card game in Sydney, and my glasses. I tied the small satchel to me with a length of twine that I prayed would hold if worst came to worst.
I roused the rest of the men in the bunk and suggested they prepare for the worst. Some told me I was being paranoid, others took me a little more seriously and went to gathere their own belongings. As I was making my way up the stairs to the deck a colossal wave smashed over the side and slammed my head against the railing. I wont mix words here, it fucking hurt and I panicked as my feet wer pulled from under me. my field of vision had become a velvet background pin pricked with tiny stars flashing in and out of existence. Luckily I was swept below decks and slammed into the wall. The water cascaded over me in a torrential roar and woke the rest of the sailors. Shouts of alarm and panic erupted. I wanted to shout “I told you so” but at that moment another ocean swell rocked the oat and sent people flying to the floor or the wall or whatever hard surface happened to be near.
Swearing like the sailors they were they began to push past me to get above deck and try to secure the ship. I knew by the brittle chill deep in the marrow of my bones that the ship would not last the night. Perhaps, if we were lucky, we would be swallowed by the sinking ships rip tide and spared an agonizing death. Since you are reading this I can say for certain that that was not the case. Fighting against the heaving main I struggled to get up the awkwardly vertical ladder and pulled myself up onto the deck.
The wind was raging, trying to take as many people with it as it could. It sounded like a freight train was moving at full bore while being whipped around by an unseen giants hand. The rain pelted my face like grains of sand. I was scarred and my head was throbbing. I wanted to pray, but I think that perhaps because I didn’t my life may have been spared. Suddenly the water from under the boat had dropped away and we were literally floating in the air, an impossible airship. I felt my stomach trying to catch up to thhe rest of me as we sailed the mini gulf stream back to violent cradle of the sea. Lightning flashed and as I looked around it was impossible to tell sky from water, but there was what appeared to be a wall of water hurdleing towards us. There were sharks in that wall. I held on to the railing and dug my ankles into som coils of rope hoping that it would be enough to keep me on the boat. The wave crashed over us. The grind and squeel of twisting metal was echoed byu not so distant thunder. Whe the water had receeded I was still on board staring intho the grinning maw of a ridiculously large shark. Thrashing about it snapped at me trying to get in one last meal before it suffocated. The shipped rooled to the port side and I was launced over the struggleing beast and landed in a tangle of cargo nets. Not knowing what else to do I searched for a life preserver.
Up near the helm I saw a flash of yellow near a drainage hole. I dove for it, ignoring the pounding of my head and the ache in my body. As it slipped out of the drain and tumbled to the unforgiving sea below I managed to snag a strap and heroically saving my only means of surviving this maelstrom. I hurredly flung it over my head and sanpped the clasp shut, sinching it as tight as I possibly could. I had decided that I was going to survive the night at least.
I left the helm and began searching for a life boat or any one who might have still been on board. The sea felt like it was beginning to calm and the wind was dieng down. Lightning flashed of in the distance and I felt as if I was the only soul left on a bleak and lifeless ocean. In the silence I heard voices and the tinkling of bells. People were shouting to hurry and abandon ship. I ran to the starboard side and saw the rest of the crew frantically lowering the life boats. “jump!” someone shouted. I hesitated. They were a good fifteen feet below the deck and still about ten feet above the water. I weighed my options. If I jump it would be a hard landing in the boat, if I missed it would be an even harder landing on the water. I was suddenly reminded of a video I had seen in a high school physics class of a car that had been dropped from fifty feet into a twenty foot deep pool. The image wans less than encouraging. I looked around in an adrenaline fueled calm. Where was the captain? I saw him standing stoicly on the deck. He seemed to be entranced and was wrapping rope around his waist and lashing it to ladder rung. He had decided to go down with the ship. Whatever. I wasn’t going to die here. I hesitated one last time and the gale force of the tempest was upon me again. I flung myself over the ledge.
The fall was an eternity wrapped in an instant. The waves rushed up to meet me and embraced me in briny darkness. I fought to orient my self and tried to swim upwards. It was almost impossible. I went limp with shock and fear. I had no direction, no way to know whether I was sinking or rising to the surface. I opened my eyes and let the salt water burn on my retina. I looked for the bubles and let the life preserver do the work. I started kicking and found my head breaking the water. Wildly I looked around for any one of the life boats. They were a few dozen yards off to my left. The waves were swelling, getting ready for another strike. I swam madly towards the nearest boat, sure that I wouldn’t make it and be pushed under to meet with davey jones.
Something hit me in the face and splashed water in my eyes. Blindly grasping I found that it was a rope and held n for dear life. I was being towed towards the boat and began kicking to expedite the process. Lightning flared all around and the wind picked up speed, close on the heals of the last peel of thunder. Hands grabbed atme and pulled me into the lifeboat. We all spent the next several hours fearing that we were already in hell as the storm batted us across the waves, trying to bring us down to Poseidon’s palace.
I woke in the boat some time after mid morning. I could feel the sour stenche of salt anf fear crusting on my skin. Some one was moaning, another voice howled in madness. I looked to the east and could see the tail end of the storm fading over the horizon. A pang of pity tugged at my stomach. Then I vomited. What felt like gallons of seawater spilled over my teeth and mixed in with the rest of the vast ocean that had failed to claim our lives that night.
I looked around to survey the damage left in the wake of the storm. There were numerous items floating languidly in the sea. As we floated by some of the survivors reached out to see if any of the flotsam was usefull. Remembering my hastily packed bag I checked around my waist. It was still there. I almost cried upon seeing the knife and lighter. I knew tht there was some semblance of hope now. We would be able to eat. Water was going to be the big issue. Smiling like a fool I fell back into the cradling prow of the boat and dozed, too exhausted to do anything else.
When I woke I counted the remaining crew members in the life boat. Fourteen had managed to find salvation on our mobile island. Two of them were arguing about what to do now.
“we need to paddle east, back towards senegal. That’s our only hope!” shouted the one called Murphey. He was in shock and could only think about moving in a direction. He was arguing with Edwin. Edwin is a big burley Africaner from cape town. he was the first mates right hand man which made him third in command after the captain. But the captain was gone, following his ship to the abyssal plane three miles below us. The first mate was nowhere to be seen. Edwin was not used to taking orders from deckhands.
“No, we can not paddle. We have only one oar. What we need to do is try and see if any of the other boats or crew survived. It is our duty not to let them suffer an agonizing death alone.” With that the argument was over. Edwin had won the pissing contest and was now the alpha dog. Murphey went to sulk at the stern. Edwin came over to where I was hunched down trying to find some relief from the blazing ball of fire hanging over us. I started thinking of everything that could go wrong; dehydration, hunger, sunstroke, heat stroke, sunburn, hunger, thirst, another storm, sharks. I was working myself inrto a panic and wasabbout to jump over board when Edwin spoke.
“it is going to be alright friend, just do not panic.” He paused and looked me in the eye and grinned. “Did you remember your towel?” was he joking? No I didn’t remember to bring my towel. A towel was the last thing on my mind last night. I couldn’t tell. It took me a few days to get the joke. “you have been sitting up here for a while, have you seen anything?” he asked calmly, soothingly, like I was a rabid dog trying to decide if I should rip his throat out or bolt for the nearest alleyway. I lifted my head till I could see over the stern and surveyed the
Fourteen people had found each other out in the liquid desert that is the open sea. Some in inflatable rafts, others clinging to debris, some swimming till they couldn’t swim any longer. The raft had been put together piece meal from various bits of flotsam and jetsam that floated by. Over the course of three days the little raft had become a floating refuge set adrift in an unforgiving sea. This tiny four-man vessel had swelled like the wave into a small barge-like thing that could accommodate the fourteen damned souls.
On man, Davidson, had on the third day, found a length of plastic tarpulin. He was an engineer back on dry land, or so he said. He rigged the tarp to act as a sail and as a water collector. He explained that the sun would evaporate the sea water all around them and the tarp would capture that moisture. It wouldn’t be much, but it would give them some time. Nobody much cared.
After the third day, Ulrich, the self appointed captian of this ill fated boat, took stock of their supplies. Some varying lengths of rope, about twelve days worth of food scavenged from the deep blue waters of the equatorial atlantic, several knives, and a water jug. There was little to no hope for this ragtag crew. There only real hope was a steamer passing by chance. He told every one to be calm. He knew the truth. The truth was that there was not any real chance of survival.
