“I can’t go out without a fight,” Tom said aloud. “If I die, then I’ll die doing my best to stay alive.”
His internal battle was over, at least for the moment. But what the hell could he do? The only strategy that made sense to Tom was to do everything he could to stay alive for as long as possible. That meant conserving food, water and energy. It also meant avoiding depression and thinking positively, no matter how bleak things became.
Was it possible that a ship could happen by? He was not interested in lying to himself, he knew that he was well away from the major shipping lanes, but still this was the ocean. Ships travelled across the Pacific – hundreds if not thousands of them at any given time. Who knows what set of circumstances might bring a vessel near his position. Then the obvious occurred to him – what about another sailboat? His course wasn’t a straight line from San Francisco to Hawaii, he deliberately chose to avoid as much traffic as possible, but might another sailor have the same idea?
Yes, that’s it, Tom said silently to himself. The odds were fairly decent, maybe not great, but fairly decent that another sailboat could come within a few miles of his position. That could happen.
Tom reached into his red emergency pack and pulled out the flare gun. He loaded a shell into the gun and checked it. The gun appeared to be in working order. He tucked it back into the pack and tied it down with a strap.
He rehearsed in his mind exactly what he would do when he saw another boat. He would not be quick to pull the trigger on the flare gun; rather he would take a deep breath and try his best to determine the course and speed of the boat. If he could see that the boat was moving closer to him, he would wait to fire. Also, if it was near nightfall he would wait until the sky was darker before firing. How far away could his flare be seen? Several miles to be sure, but the boat might have to be traveling in his direction for anyone onboard to notice it. Would they be close enough to hear the flare explode? There were a number of uncertainties, but one thing was very clear – he only had three flares. He might have to decide to use them all at once, one after another, to get the attention of a boat or ship, or he might have to choose to hold his fire and wait for another opportunity.
His focus, his mission, was now set. Every moment he was awake, day and night, needed to be spent doing only two things – sustaining himself physically and mentally and scanning the horizon for boats and ships. He vowed to do these things for as long as he could.
If his efforts were in vain then so be it. At least he would die knowing that he did everything he could to try and get back to his children. That might be the only solace he would have before he became fish food, but it was the best he could do.
^^^^^^
For the next four days, Tom settled into a routine. He watched the horizon for what he thought was an hour – his internal clock had always been pretty accurate – and then he closed his eyes and rested for about fifteen minutes. He repeated this process for the entire day and well into the night. When it was about midnight Tom allowed himself to sleep, willing his brain to wake him as close to dawn as was possible.
He was down to a few sips of water per day and a half of an energy bar. Also, he now slept with the emergency pack strapped across his chest and sitting by his left side. That system worked well enough; the only way he was going to lose the pack was if he went into the water with it.
By his calculations he had about ten days left. The food and water would run out in seven days and he figured that he could last three or four more days after that. If he survived for the entire time that would mean that he would have floated on the fiberglass raft for a little more than two weeks.
His spirits were up, or at least as up as they could be. He very diligently scanned the horizon, spinning around every few minutes or so thereby taking in a 360 degree view. All he saw was water and the occasional pod of dolphins. As he scanned the water, he thought about a lot of things.
Right below him was enough food and water to sustain him almost indefinitely. He could see the occasional fish swim by when he gazed down, but how was he supposed to catch them? When the debris field was still around he had looked for anything he could use as a pole and a hook or even a net, something, anything, to catch fish. He toyed with the idea of simply jumping in the water and trying to catch fish with his bare hands. That was a pointless effort, he quickly concluded. Not only would he be unable to catch any fish, he would exhaust himself in short order.
His mind drifted back to his children, to Syd and to the life he left behind. Good memories, troubling ones – they all jumbled together, coming at him in no particular order. At night he seemed to dream less and less.
His skin was getting burned and blistered. The sunscreen and aloe vera gel he found in the emergency pack was running low. He was thirsty and hungry constantly now – he almost could not remember what it was like to have a full belly or not to ache for water. But he kept his vigil, focusing as best he could on looking for any sign of human life on the water.
The sea had been calm, almost eerily so, ever since the explosion. On the evening of the sixth day after he was cast adrift, the weather began to change. Tom could see clouds approaching from the west, the typical direction storms moved over these waters. He was so accustomed to floating in tranquility that at times he almost forgot that the ocean was not normally this peaceful.
As the sun set the rain began. Then the once calm sea began to stir. By the time late evening arrived, Tom was hanging on for dear life as six foot swells tossed him and his fiberglass life raft around like ice in a blender.
Chapter Eighteen
The chunk of fiberglass Tom was holding on to for dear life had jagged edges. Sydney’s hull had been ripped apart by the force of the explosion, and it did not tear neatly. These open edges now provided Tom with something he desperately needed, a place to hold on to.
His raft was a bit longer than his length, so he could put his hands into the side of the fiberglass and get and maintain a decent grip, but his feet were free to flop around. A strap was wrapped as tightly as possible around him securing the emergency pack to his side. He reminded himself that the emergency pack was buoyant – it might even be buoyant enough to act as a life preserver if he and the raft became separated.
But then again, if he and the raft became separated… that would be it.
As the storm raged on, the waves grew in frequency and size. Tom’s headgear flew off in the wind. He had absolutely no control over where the raft went – he was riding a cork bobbing in a Jacuzzi on overdrive. The water crashed into him constantly, pounding his back and his face and forcing him to swallow seawater. This made him sick to his stomach so he began to retch with dry heaves. He knew this would only further dehydrate him, but there was nothing he could do to calm his stomach.
It was the wind and not a wave that turned his raft over the first time. Riding the crest of a swell, Tom could feel the wind literally pick him up and flip him over. Now he was hanging on to the fiberglass from the bottom side, underwater. His first thought at that moment was, it’s over. I’m done for. Then instinct took over.
His head popped up above the waves and he took in a gulp of air. He still had a firm grip on the raft. But how was he going to crawl back up on top? Fortunately, the same forces that toppled him over now helped him get back up. As he tried his best to slide his right leg on top of the raft, a wave and a gust of wind pushed him in the same direction. Tom was lifted on top and hung on before he slid off the other side. The emergency pack also helped him – it made him totally buoyant.
He lay there on the raft for a while taking the battering and wondering if he could right himself again if he had to. He wasn’t sure. He wanted to reach into his pack and take a sip of water, even a small amount might keep his stomach from cramping over and over again, but he dare not. In order to access the pack he would have to loosen the strap and if he lost the pack… again he would be doomed.
After a couple of hours of intense wind, rain and waves,
Tom thought that the storm might be letting up a bit. How long would it be before dawn? Tom wondered. He thought it had to be three or four a.m., but there was no way to be sure. Even though he was in tropical waters, Tom was freezing. The combination of wind and wet on his bare skin was chilling him to the bone. When the sun came up he knew that he would go from being a Popsicle to a pizza in the microwave, but he preferred to roast rather than freeze.
The lull didn’t last long, maybe half an hour. Then the sea came roaring back to life. The waves were higher and wind more fierce than it was before. After being slammed around by seven foot crests, he was flipped over once more. As he did the last time, Tom let the emergency pack bring him back up to the surface. Then the unthinkable happened.
He lost his grip on the raft.
Tom felt it slip away. He reached out for it, but when he did the raft was gone. The emergency pack was floating on his right side keeping his head above the water, but he was being battered by the waves every second. He could barely breathe. He couldn’t think anymore, so he stopped struggling.
He put his right hand over the buckle that held the pack against his chest. All he had to do was unhook the buckle and it would be over. He would be forced under by the power of the waves and maybe he would feel some pain for a second or two, but that would be it.
Just as his hand was about to open the buckle, the raft him square in the head. It hurt like hell, jolting him back to life. He reached up and grabbed the side of the raft. The pack and the waves again acted in unison and almost gently set him back on top of the fiberglass.
“My God!” Tom screamed. Then he screamed again, “Enough!”
The sea did not listen to his pleas. It continued to roar for another hour or so, but then as the first rays of light began peaking over the eastern horizon the storm began to abate. Slowly at first, but then it quit almost at once.
Never before had Tom felt anything as good as the sun shining on his face and the taste of the fresh water that he now poured down his throat. He was fully aware that he was drinking three or four days’ supply of water all in one big gulp, but he did not care.
For the entire day, Tom didn’t do anything but lay on the raft and sleep. His brain needed some time to recover before he considered what he would do next.
Chapter Nineteen
“Yes, so what I really need to ask you is -.”
“Can you hold please?” the woman on the line said.
“I have been… we were just talking… if I must, but -.”
“Thank you. I’m the only one here at the moment. I’ll be right back with you,” the female voice reassured.
Syd was talking with the Hawaii office of the Coast Guard. She had expected to hear from Tom two or three days ago. While he had told her that there was no need to panic if he didn’t check in “on-time”, Sydney was terribly worried about him and had been since the moment he left San Francisco. She had not told the kids that she hadn’t heard from their dad, there was no need to do that yet.
After the most maddening two minutes of her life, the woman came back on the line. “Sorry to put you on hold, I’m just a bit -.”
“I need you to check on the status of my husband, Tom Campbell. His is sailing solo from San Francisco to Hawaii. He told me that he would be within radio range by now and I have not heard from him. I’m worried that something may have happened to him.”
“Ma’am,” the woman said, letting out a heavy sigh. “Do you know much about sailing?”
“Less than nothing. Why? What does it matter?” Syd was on the verge of losing her cool.
“Sailing is an imprecise way to move across the Pacific. Your husband is an experienced sailor I assume?”
“Yes he is.”
“Then I’m sure he told you that things happen on long sail journeys. Over the past month, we have experienced some unusually calm weather in the northern and central Pacific – little or no winds for days at a time. Your husband probably just let his boat drift, went for a swim and enjoyed the incredible serenity of a glassy calm ocean. That’s most likely the reason for his delay in reaching radio range.”
“Yes, he told me things like that could happen. But I need you to check on him that’s all I’m asking.”
“How can we ‘check on him’? Does he have a satellite phone? There is no radio or cell service in the middle of the Pacific.”
“I wanted him to take a satellite phone, but he refused.”
“Your husband probably does not want to be disturbed. That’s not an unusual request from a -.”
“Can’t you send a ship or a plane to check on him? I see searches on TV going on all the time for people who are missing at sea.”
“Your husband is not ‘missing’, ma’am. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“How much would it cost to send a plane out to look for him? I’ll pay the expense for you folks to do that, just tell me who to call and how much it is,” Sydney said.
“It doesn’t work like that ma’am, I’m sorry -.”
“My name is Sydney, or Dr. Campbell, not ma’am.”
The Coast Guard officer, Sydney was talking with the duty officer on station, took a deep breath. She knew from experience that people panicked when solo sailors were even a few days overdue.
“Dr. Campbell, we cannot send air resources to search for a sailboat that is not really overdue. Even if you had tens of thousands of dollars to pay for such a search, it would likely prove fruitless. The Pacific is a huge body of water. Your husband is a thousand miles away from any land. Finding one sailboat in the middle of the ocean is like, to use an old but appropriate cliché, trying to find a needle in a haystack.”
“So there is nothing you can do?”
“I have noted that your husband is overdue. Before I put you on hold you gave me all the particulars; the boat’s size and name, his planned course, his date of departure, all that. You also gave me your email and phone info. If you don’t hear from him in a week or so, please call us back. I will alert this station that if he radios here for any reason, he should contact you immediately.”
“There has to be something else I can do. We have two kids.”
“You can worry less, that’s what you can do. Ninety nine percent of the time there is nothing to be concerned about in these situations. I advise you against setting off any alarm bells with family and friends. Just give him a few more days and everything will be fine.”
“Thanks. I’ll try and take your advice. Please call me if you learn anything new.”
“That’s a guarantee. Goodbye, Mrs. Campbell.”
“Goodbye.”
Syd set her cell phone down and gazed out her window. Her home office looked out over the Bay, although it was few miles distant. She could see sailboats making their way through choppy seas. The winds had picked up in San Francisco over the past couple of days. She hoped Tom was enjoying these same conditions.
She picked her cell phone back up and dialed another number. It was Saturday afternoon, so she thought she might catch him at home.
“Hello,” the man said.
“Gabriel, its Syd. Sorry to intrude on your weekend. Got a minute?”
“Syd… Yeah sure. Give me a second.” Sydney could hear Gabriel talking to one of his daughters. “Yeah, Syd. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Listen, before we talk… I know I should have spoken with you more over the past year. We will always be family. I just thought it was awkward, you know, even though -.”
“Syd, it’s me you’re talking to. Tom is my brother; you’re the mother of his kids. Those two things will never change. What’s on your mind?”
“Have you heard from Tom?”
“Nada. He wasn’t planning on calling me until he arrived in Hawaii. Why? Is there a problem?”
“He was supposed to be in radio range by now. I’ve not heard from him.”
“How many days is he overdue to call you?”
“Three or so,” Syd said sheepishly, e
xpecting that Gabriel was about to give her the same lecture as the Coast Guard officer did moments ago.
“I wish to hell that he’d have listened to me. Sailing all that way by himself… that was not his best idea.”
“You’re worried?” Syd asked.
“Been worried. Did you call the Coast Guard?”
“Just did. They said there is nothing they can do and that the winds have been weak over the past few days. They said to call them back in a while if I haven’t heard from him.”
“Yea, I’d expect them to say that. Sydney, you made the right call not letting Jonas go with Tom. I just thought you should know that.”
“My son hates me for the moment, but what if… I can’t imagine anything worse than to have both of them lost out there.”
“Tom will be alright. Radios break down, ya know. He might be right on time and you’d still never hear from him until he made Honolulu.”
“He has a cell phone,” Syd said.
“Then he should be in cell range soon. My brother is one tough son of a bitch. You know that, right? He knows what he’s doing on a sailboat. Let’s try and not let our fears get the worst of us.”
“Thanks, Gabriel. It’s nice to know that you don’t hate me.”
“Why would I hate you? You’re my sister for God’s sake. Just because you and Tom split up doesn’t mean that you stopped being my sister.”
“I still love him, you know. Very much,” Syd said. Her voice was now wavering as if she was about to cry.
“Take it easy, Syd. Everything will be alright. Call me any time of the day or night if you hear anything or if you just need to talk.”
“Thanks, Gabriel.”
Gabriel had been thinking a lot about Tom over the past couple of days. The big trial he was gearing up for was cancelled at the eleventh hour when the parties settled. Unfortunately, the settlement came a day after Tom left port. Gabriel had thought about radioing Tom or even trying his cell phone and asking him if he’d be willing to come back to San Francisco and pick him up, but he didn’t want to disturb him. He figured that Tom was all set to do the trip solo, so why bother him and change his plans at the last moment?
Henry and Tom: Ocean Adventure Series Book 1: Rescue (Ocean Adventures Series) Page 8
