THE MYSTRY SAILOR
By Gerard Roch
O’Neil
The moment I motored out past the protection of the headland, I knew I
had made a terrible mistake! The waves were much bigger and the wind much
stronger than I had expected.
Giving the outboard motor full throttle, I swung the tiller over in an
attempt to head back to calmer water.
“Why hadn’t I continued to ride out the storm in the safe heaven I had
just left,” I wondered out loud?
With the wind now “dead on the nose”, forward progress was almost nil.
A whiff of burning rubber floated past!
“Strange? Someone must be burning something on shore,” I reasoned.
Then with a start I realized that the smell could not have been carried
so far. It had to be coming from somewhere much closer! Suddenly my heart
missed a beat. It could only be coming from one place. I made a desperate drive
for the outboard, but was beaten! It coughed, spluttered and then died before I
could reach it. Without forward momentum we were quickly blown broadside to the
waves and began to be pushed out to open water.
It only took me a few seconds to discover what was wrong with the motor.
Some seaweed had been drawn into the cooling pipe causing it to overheat. I
soon had the weed cleared, but as the motor was still very hot, I decided to
wait for it to cool down a little before restarting it.
As I nervously waited, conditions started to deteriorate. Spray began to
fly and waves began to slop onboard. Not daring to wait any longer, I gave the
outboard starting cord a sharp pull. Nothing happened. I pulled again. Still
nothing! I rested for a moment and then gathering all my strength, pulled with
everything I had. There was a loud “BANG” as the cord broke, this was followed
a few seconds later by a faint “plop” as part of the starting mechanism fell
into the sea and disappeared. For several seconds I stared in disbelief. Slowly
my brain began to register my situation. Without an engine it would be
impossible to get back to land!
I slumped down in the cockpit and tried to think my situation through.
It soon became obvious that the only option open to me was to sail downwind
towards an island that lay twenty miles offshore.
“If I could make it that far, then there was a chance I could find
shelter behind it,” I tried to convince myself.
The next few hours were perhaps the worst of my life. Huge waves
threatened to capsize and sink us at any moment. Windblown spray and rain made
it impossible to see more than a few feet in front. Then when things looked as
they could not get any worse, they did!
The island finally appeared out of the glum a long way to starboard and
to my horror I realized I was going to miss it!
“God help me,” I cried as I saw my objective rapidly passing by!
“HE” must have been listening as to my amazement a few minutes later a
strong current began to set us directly towards the islands southernmost tip.
I reached the island just before nightfall. As I sailed past a reef
being pounded by heavy seas I spotted a tiny cove just to the right of it.
After a few anxious moments I managed to find refuge there and dropped anchor
at the base of a sheer cliff. After taking one last look at the intensifying
storm seaward, I went below decks and soon fell into an exhausted sleep. I
dreamt of waves and spray and death and drowning.
The next day dawned bright and sunny. Outside the cove, the wind was
still blowing strongly and a big swell was running, but there was now no longer
a cloud in the sky.
By late afternoon I decided that things had calmed down sufficiently for
me to make my breakout. Without a motor, my plan was to row my boat to the
entrance of the cove and at the first suggestion of wind, raise sail. I had
just started to haul in the anchor when a guest of wind blew directly into my
sheltered haven. Before I had the chance to do anything else, a second,
stronger gust arrived. It whipped the water into little white caps that pushed
us dangerously close to a rocky outcrop.
Instead of hauling in more chain, I forced to let extra out! My safe
cove was rapidly turning into a dangerous trap. Before long the ocean swell had
also discovered our hiding place as well. My anchorage was now a place of
agitated water and exposed rock. Without a motor it was impossible for me to
escape. It appeared to only be a matter of time before we would be flung
against something solid and “smashed to smithereens!”
As I disparately looked at the cliff trying to find a way to scale it if
I needed too, I was astonished to hear a voice floating on the wind:
“I am coming in just once. Catch the rope if you can. If you miss it,
you will have to swim out to me!”
I swung round to discover the voice belonged to the skipper of a small
yacht not much bigger than mine. To have entered the cove in such conditions
was either an act of great courage or an act of great madness.
My rescuer maneuvered his boat into position and threw me a rope. I caught it first time and fastened it to the
bow. The moment it was secure the slack
was taken up and I rushed to haul in the anchor. The instant it was off the sea
floor we began to move forward. Our escape from the cove seemed guaranteed, and
then it happened! Just as my tow was
about to break out into clear water a huge breaker reared up to block my
rescuers path. He was sucked into the enormous wave’s base and then disappeared
as it broke completely over him in a mass of spray and foam. The tow rope went
slack! I just had time to catch my breath and tensed myself for the impact
which would now surely come. Suddenly our backward lunge stopped and we began
to move forward again. I opened my eyes
to see to my surprise that my rescuer had somehow survived the wave and was now
out in clear water. I too was soon free!
My rescuer came along side and introduced himself. His name was Peter. He told me he had heard a
radio report the previous day about a small yacht being blown out to sea in the
region. As he was sailing past the island, he had spotted me and suspected that
I might be the missing boat.
“I decided to check you out just to make sure everything was OK,” he
said smiling. “I think I arrived just in time!”
As the weather forecast was promising the arrival of yet another cold
front, Peter suggested we sail back to the mainland together.
With a following wind we made my home port in “double quick time”.
After I had picked up my mooring I invited Peter to berth alongside and
then come home to meet my family and stay with us for a few days. He politely declined my offer, saying he
wanted to be back out in open water before the weather changed. With a final
wave, he pointed the bow of his yacht towards the darkening horizon. From my
vantage point on the breakwater, I watched him until he was swallowed up by the
approaching night.
Hours later when I was lying in my snug bed reflecting on the events of
the day, I suddenly realized that the only thing I knew about Peter was his
first name. I had no idea where he had come from or where he was going. On
reflection, however it did not seem to matter. In the short time our paths had
crossed, Peter had taught me about the virtues of “selflessness” and
“courage”. A short time later I fell
into a deep and blissful sleep.
In the early hours of the morning I was awoken by a violent gust of wind
rattling my bedroom window, and soon after it began to rain heavily. The
promised cold front was arriving. Just before drifting back to sleep I
remembered Peter somewhere out there alone, sailing dark stormy seas. I prayed
to the angels to protect and guide him wherever he voyaged.
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