The Stranger in the Lifeboat(7)

The water was rough, and the rain drummed on my head. By the time I got my bearings, the Galaxy was a good fifty yards away. I saw dark smoke starting to billow out. I told myself I could still swim back to her, and part of me wanted to, because, even wrecked, she was something solid in the otherwise empty sea. Her decks remained lit, beckoning me. But I knew she was doomed. She began to list, as if lying down for a final sleep.

I tried to see if a lifeboat was being released, or if people were jumping off the sides, but the constant crashing of waves impaired my vision. I tried to swim, but where was I going? I remember things drifting past me, things that had been blown off the Galaxy just as I had, a couch, a cardboard box, even a baseball cap. Gasping for breath, I wiped the rain from my eyes and spotted a lime-green suitcase floating just a few feet away.

It was the hard-shell kind that apparently doesn’t sink, and I grabbed that suitcase and clung to it. Then I witnessed the Galaxy’s final moments. I saw her decks go dark. I saw eerie green bulbs light her frame. I watched her slowly drop, lower and lower, until she sank out of sight and a swooshing wave passed overhead, mopping the surface of her last remains.

I began to weep.

I don’t know how long I was in the water that way, crying like a little boy, for myself, for the others who were lost, even for the Galaxy, which I felt strangely sorry for. But I tell you again, Annabelle, I had no part in destroying that ship. I know what Dobby wanted, and the things I may have inadvertently helped him plan. But I was thrown into the sea with nothing but the clothes on my back, and I tossed in those frigid waves for who knows how long. Had I not found that suitcase, I would be dead already.

I began to hear voices of other passengers in the water. Some were howls. Others were clear enough to distinguish actual words—Help me! or Please!—but then, in a rush, the sounds disappeared. The ocean plays tricks with your ears, Annabelle, and its currents are so strong that someone could be a few yards away one moment and gone for good the next.

My legs felt heavy; it was all I could do to keep them moving. I knew if I cramped up, I could not swim, and if I could not swim, I would sink and die. I clung to that suitcase like a frightened child clings to his mother’s midsection. I was trembling with cold and my eyes were about to shut for good when I spotted an orange raft, drifting in and out of the waves. Someone on board was waving a flashlight.

I tried to yell “Help!” but I had swallowed so much salt water, it burned my throat to make a sound. I kicked toward the raft, but could not move fast enough while holding the suitcase. I had to let it go. I didn’t want to. Strange as it sounds, I felt a certain devotion to it.

But then the flashlight shone again, and this time I heard a voice yell, “Here! Over here!” I released my grip and started swimming, my head above the surface so I could keep sight of the beam. A wall of water rose and crashed. My body twisted wildly and I lost all sense of direction. No! I yelled to myself. Not when I am so close! I broke the surface just as a new wave hit me again. Once more, I was spun and yanked like a fish on a line. When I resurfaced, I gasped for air, my throat burning. I turned my head left and right—nothing. Then I turned backward.

The raft was right behind me.

I grabbed the safety rope along its side. Whoever had been waving that flashlight was gone. I can only imagine he or she was thrown off by those waves. I tried to look for a body in the water, but another wave began curling into form, so I gripped the rope with both hands, and instantly I was tossed again. I lost all sense of up or down. I squeezed that rope so hard my fingernails broke the flesh of my palms. But when I burst through the surface, I was still holding on.

I pulled myself along the outside of the raft until I found a handle for boarding. I tried three times to yank myself in. I was so weak, I failed each try. Now another large wave was forming. I didn’t think I could hang on through that one. So I screamed into the darkness, a guttural “EYARRRRGGG!” And with every ounce of strength I had left, I heaved myself over the side and fell onto the black rubber floor, panting like a mad dog.



News

ANCHOR: What you’re seeing is the area of the Atlantic Ocean where the luxury yacht the Galaxy reportedly went down Friday night, some fifty miles off the coast of Cape Verde. Our correspondent Tyler Brewer filed this report.

REPORTER: Miles and miles of vast ocean, as search and rescue teams fly over the Atlantic, hoping for any clues as to what happened on the Galaxy, a $200 million yacht owned by billionaire Jason Lambert. The ship sent a distress signal around 11:20 Friday night, reporting some type of event. It is believed to have sunk shortly thereafter.

ANCHOR: What about survivors, Tyler?

REPORTER: The news is not good. By the time rescue teams reached the area, the Galaxy was completely gone. Bad weather and strong currents may have carried debris—and even the bodies of any survivors—miles from the original transmission site.

ANCHOR: Have they discovered anything at all?

REPORTER: There are parts of the yacht’s exterior that rescue teams say they have spotted. We’re told the Galaxy was constructed of a very lightweight fiberglass that allowed it to go faster than similar yachts. Unfortunately, that also made it more susceptible to impact. An investigation is underway.

ANCHOR: An investigation into what exactly?

REPORTER: Frankly, if there was any foul play involved. There are many things that can happen to a ship at sea. But an event this destructive is quite extraordinary.