Sonny’s heart soared. He was certain the plane was coming for them. And he was right. In one swift motion, the PBY started descending and adjusting its course slightly so it was just 15 feet off the ocean. It headed right toward the raft, then banked hard; Sonny could actually see the pilot, who was giving a thumbs-up. The boy let out a croak of joy along with the cheers of his father, the captain, and George Conyea.
The four raft passengers watched with awe as the plane circled back toward them. Its 104-foot wingspan and 63-foot length made it appear enormous so close to the water. As the plane was barreling over their location, they saw the pilot drop a package out the window, landing just 10 feet from the raft. Using the board and their hands, all four survivors paddled furiously toward what they hoped was their salvation floating in the water.
The captain grabbed the package and ripped it open. Inside were two flares, a large container of water, and a note. The captain read the note out loud: “We will send shrimp boats to come and get you. If anyone is seriously hurt, wave me in and I’ll pick them up.”
Ray thought for a minute. He knew the plane was going to search for other survivors in the few minutes of daylight left, and he didn’t want to slow it down. Someone, maybe Lucille or Ina, might be hurt, and the plane could rescue them. He thought Sonny could make it the half hour or hour that he expected it would take the shrimp boat to arrive.
The plane made a broad circle above the raft and then moved off.
“We made it, son,” said Ray. “We’ll be on a boat in no time.”
Then the captain passed the water container to Ray, saying, “Let’s all take a small drink. We may want to let our bodies adjust to the water before we take a second drink.”
When Sonny took his gulp of water, he thought he had never tasted anything so good, so sweet. It was as if the water had magical powers, because he felt better immediately. He couldn’t wait for the container to come around for his second drink of the life-giving fluid. But the captain said again that they shouldn’t drink too much all at once, and the other adults agreed.
A few minutes later the plane reappeared, then moved off. The survivors had no way of knowing that the pilot had dropped a note to shrimp boats a few miles off that said: “Watch my direction. Follow me. Pick up survivors in water.”
A half hour went by and the survivors bobbed on their little raft in the darkening shadows. They all had another drink of water, and the captain said that he thought a shrimp boat could reach them within the next half hour.
Sonny shivered in his father’s arms. The hydrating water had eased his thirst but did nothing for his growing hypothermia.
“That plane can land on water, right, Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t they just do that and pick us up?”
“They needed more time in the air to find others. But a boat will be here soon.”
“What if the boat can’t find us?”
“They will. And remember, we’ve got flares to use if we see a boat.”
Sonny had forgotten about the flares. But he also wondered how his dad would see a boat in the distance come nightfall.
* * *
LUCILLE (SIXTEENTH HOUR IN THE OCEAN)
Lucille was fighting to stay awake. The slapping of the water against the makeshift raft was like the ticking of a clock. Twilight was coming on, and she wanted badly to curl up and sleep on the little raft, but there wasn’t quite enough room. Her upper lip was chapped and burned, but she tried not to pick at it.
“I heard something,” said Lucille.
The sailors perked up, searching the sky.
“An engine? I don’t—” Burke began.
“Wait!” said Robello. They were silent again.
Sorli grabbed the loose tail of the flags and slipped a long board under it to raise it high above their heads, propping his elbows on the hatch cover next to Lucille.
“Yes!” said Robello.
Now Lucille could see a stubby aircraft coming nearer, its wings wobbling from side to side, signaling that the group had been seen. The aircraft seemed to take over all of her senses as it passed not far above the tiny raft, shaking her body with reverberations from its engines. The sailors were jubilant, and for a few moments all forgot the discomfort of skin rubbed raw by the salt water, unquenchable thirst, and stinging sunburn.
The plane circled back, and when it was almost overhead, a box popped out of the pilot’s window, landing in the water not far from the group. One sailor paddled over to retrieve it.
For Lucille, the opening of the box was as exciting as Christmas morning. Inside were cans of water, candy bars, and skin cream for their sunburned faces. Despite their desperate thirst and a day without food, each waited patiently for a turn to help themselves to their share of the contents. More important than the comforting sips of water and the soothing skin cream was the assurance that help would be coming, that the outside world knew they were here.
The sailors were just as happy to be rescued as Lucille was, but they worried that Lucille’s family might not have made it off the ship. Each man had his own remarkable survival story, like Burke, who’d been dismayed at finding the ship sinking within 30 seconds of the first torpedo, and the sailor who had squeezed out of a porthole naked because he’d been in the shower at the moment of impact. None wanted to speculate on the fate of Lucille’s family members: the energetic boy who had peppered them with questions, the stern father, and the kind mother who had been friendly to them all. Keeping a family intact through such a cataclysmic event would be impossible, and seconds spent trying to leave the ship could mean the difference between life and death. The men knew there would not be an accurate accounting of the 50 crew, six Navy Armed Guards, and six civilians for days to come.
20
A SILENT VIGIL
(DUSK INTO NIGHT)
INA (SEVENTEENTH HOUR IN THE OCEAN)
No plane appeared over Ina. Time dragged on, and she cried thinking of a life without Sonny, Lucille, and Ray. She briefly entertained the idea of letting go of the planks and slipping underwater to let the sea take her down. Anything to ease the pain.
She doubted she’d last another night at sea, not knowing what had happened to her children and husband. Then a prayer came to mind: “Dear Lord, I will not leave thee or forsake thee. Lord, I put myself in your hands,” she murmured. “I lead my family to you; please protect them.”
Dusk came, and still no sign of rescue. Ina second-guessed her decision to leave the sailors on the makeshift raft. The dark void of approaching night, with unseen sharks, terrified her. With the sailors, I wouldn’t have to face this alone, she thought.
* * *
SONNY AND RAY (EIGHTEENTH HOUR IN THE OCEAN, NINETEENTH HOUR ON THE SHRIMPER)
Sonny had forgotten all about the sharks, but Ray hadn’t. Ray still scanned the dark ocean around the raft for any sign of a fin. He wondered what to do if a shark appeared. If one came back, he thought he could use the strong light from a flare to scare it away. But they only had two flares.
The sun had set, but the survivors could still differentiate between the horizon and the ocean in the twilight. The prospect of another night in the water scared Ray to the core—not for himself but for Sonny, who was shivering in his arms. He regretted not waving in the plane. Now there was nothing he could do to change that decision.
Each time the raft rose to the top of a swell, all four survivors craned their necks to get a quick look at the horizon, hoping to see a boat. The captain estimated they had another 20 minutes before darkness would obscure their vision.
The adults were discussing whether and how to use the first of the two flares when Ray thought he saw a flicker of light in the distance. He didn’t say anything, but instead waited for the raft to ride up the next swell so he could get another look.
At the top of the swell, he saw not only the light but the unmistakable silhouette of a boat!
“A shrimp boat is coming!”
&
nbsp; Soon the men could see the outlines of other fishing boats heading in their direction.
In a few moments, one of the shrimp boats arrived at the raft, and the crew helped the survivors clamber aboard.
One of the first things Sonny noticed was the smell of food, and he realized how hungry he was. The crew wrapped him in blankets while his father asked if they had any news of his wife or Lucille. Unfortunately, they had not.
The survivors were given more water and small bowls of jambalaya. The shrimp boat captain continued searching the sea, using floodlights on the sides of the vessel and a third mounted on the top of the cabin that was aimed forward.
Sonny and Ray began a silent vigil, hoping against the odds that they would find Lucille and Ina, even though it was now dark. Ray thought about the two lucky breaks his wife and daughter would have needed to still be alive. First and foremost, they had to have made it past the staircase they were standing on when the Heredia lurched and the family was separated. Remembering his own struggle to break the glass and escape through a window, he knew their survival also depended on having been swept out of the sinking vessel. Finding a lifeboat or a raft from the ship also would have contributed to their survival. He recalled how quickly the ship went down, with the stern underwater almost immediately. He knew that the odds of Ina’s and Lucille’s survival were long. He didn’t think anyone swimming in the ocean’s cold water for more than 18 hours would be found alive.
When Ray was on the raft, he had put all his hope for his wife’s and daughter’s survival into the faith that they had been rescued well before Sonny and him. Now the bitter reality hit him that the likelihood of their being alive was remote. If they had been in a life raft or a lifeboat, surely the same plane that spotted his raft would have spotted theirs, and one of the shrimp boats in the fleet would have picked them up.
The despair Ray felt was crushing. He told Sonny it was just a matter of time before Ina and Lucille were found, but he was losing hope. Waiting was agony, so he told Sonny to lie down on a bunk, and he went up to the bridge. Ray asked the captain if he had his radio on. The captain said he did, explaining that a boat this small would not be a target for a U-boat. Ray asked if any of the other shrimp boats had picked up survivors. They hadn’t, but the captain added that at least seven or eight boats were searching with their floodlights. Ray thanked him and returned to his son, hoping and praying for a miracle.
Sonny sat on a crew member’s top bunk and stared out a porthole, and his dad did the same from a different porthole. The side floodlights illuminated an area of the sea about 25 feet out from the vessel. Sonny could not rejoice over his own rescue while thinking his mom and Lucille might be floating out there in the night … or worse.
The young boy trained his eyes on the dark water that shone under the floodlights, thinking that if he remained vigilant, he might be the one to spot them. Keeping his eyes open was another matter. Except for a brief period of sleep on the raft, Sonny had been awake since the first torpedo hit at 2 A.M. the prior night. He pressed his head against the glass and willed himself to keep looking, knowing his dad was doing the same.
After an hour of staring out the porthole at the black sea, Ray could stand it no longer and went back up to the helm. He wanted to make sure the shrimp boat captain would search through the night. Once assured, he returned to a bunk near Sonny and continued gazing out a porthole.
21
A WAVERING LIGHT
(DUSK INTO NIGHT)
LUCILLE (SEVENTEENTH HOUR IN THE OCEAN, EIGHTEENTH AND NINETEENTH HOURS ON A SHRIMPER)
The drone of the boat’s motor was the most welcome sound Lucille had ever heard.
After the plane dropped supplies, the survivors had spent hours wondering when rescuers would appear. Conversation was muted as all listened intently for another engine sound from plane or ship, keeping watch as before at the crest of every swell. Finally, a wavering light appeared, and then an engine could be heard churning in their direction.
Silhouetted against the sky, the boat was small and low to the water, with long poles extending over the ocean on each side. Several crewmen crowded the railing to see the people in the water. One was yelling instructions to the helmsman, telling him to cut the engine as they drew closer. It was a local shrimp boat, the Shellwater, with a crew from Morgan City.
Lucille was the first to be lifted from her flotsam perch and onto the deck of the trawler, which was cluttered with pails and piles of fishing net. Sorli was pulled aboard next, and Lucille saw him wince as he took off his life vest for the first time in more than 18 hours. His exposed skin was badly burned and raw from jellyfish stings.
Two crewmen carried the young girl down the companionway, going first inside the pilothouse and down a small ladder. In a small bunkroom they let her stand on wobbly legs. A crewman asked her name and pointed Lucille to a basin to wash up while he laid some dry clothing on a lower bunk. Lucille’s fingers were too raw and stiff to untie the knot her mother had firmly tightened on her life vest, so one of the fishermen cut it for her. When the sodden weight was lifted from her body, she felt weak and light-headed and began to fall. The two men caught her, placed her on the bunk, and then left to get her some food.
Lucille struggled to remove the pajamas she’d worn to bed. Her eyes teared at the memory of her snug stateroom in the Heredia, of the anticipation that home was so close at hand before the terrible hours in the water. Where are Mother, Father, and Sonny?
“Lucille?” said a voice at the door. It was Sorli. She finished pulling an oversized shirt on, feeling its roughness against her raw skin. He poked his head inside. “We’re heading to land. The captain will try to contact other shrimpers and ask about your family.”
Lucille was overcome with tears.
Sorli stepped forward to hug her, but when she put her arms around him, he tightened up because of his damaged skin.
After a small bowl of broth and some bread, Lucille stretched out on a bunk and slept while the boat’s engines groaned through the water, rocking her to sleep.
* * *
INA (TWENTIETH HOUR IN THE OCEAN)
About that same time, in complete darkness, a voice in Ina’s head said, Look up in front of you. She saw a light approaching her, and wondered if she was hallucinating. She had been in the ocean for 20 hours straight.
Squinting through her damaged eyes, Ina thought the light was on a mast of a ship. Shouting for help, she paddled on her board in the direction of the boat, now able to make out searchlights in addition to the light on the mast. In minutes, the boat was right on top of her, its noisy engines and the energetic voices of crewmen welcome sounds that cut through her exhaustion and despair.
Adrenaline overcame Ina’s torpor, but she was physically unable to help herself get on board the shrimp trawler. Hands reached down toward her, but it was all she could do to lift her oil-drenched head.
One of the crewman shouted, “Get a rope! This person is alive!”
Ray and Sonny heard the commotion and ran topside. Sonny could see that someone was in the water. The person was dark-skinned and wore what looked to be a peacoat.
“Dad!” Sonny shouted. “Looks like they got one of the Filipino crew members.”
Ray leaned as far as the could over the rail and saw a person covered in black oil whose hair was matted and thick with the gooey substance. He stared at the struggling survivor below.
Then Ray erupted. “Filipino, hell! That’s your mother!”
A crew member threw a line to Ina, but she was unable to grasp it.
“Are you strong enough to let go of the board?” asked the crewman. Ina could only raise her hand toward the boat, looking up at it through one tearing eye.
The crewman reached down and grasped her arm, but it was still slick with heavy oil, and she slid back into the water like a seal. Ray also reached down to grab his wife, but she was just beyond his reach.
When the trawler captain approached to see why the survivor wasn
’t on board yet, he understood the situation immediately.
“Ma’am,” he said, leaning over the side of the boat toward Ina, “would you agree to us using a rope to help you aboard? The oil is making it difficult, you see.”
“Yes, if you would,” Ina croaked.
A member of the crew quickly slid a rope under one of her outstretched legs and cinched it down with a knot. “Ready, Cap’n,” he said.
“Now, ma’am, we will have you out of the water and in some dry clothes forthwith,” the captain said, signaling the crew to haul Ina up using a pulley that pivoted over the stern of the trawler. She tried to grasp the rope with one hand while her leg was being pulled above the water, but the angle of the rope pushed her life vest against the lip of the boat. It was preventing her from being lifted higher.
“Down again, boys,” said the captain. He reached out for the rope and moved it away from the boat, then signaled for the crew to try again. As Ina was raised out of the water, the captain grabbed her life preserver and pivoted his catch over the boat and landed her on the deck.
Ray and Sonny knelt next to her, clutching at her coat and tattered nightgown, helping her to sit up and then showered kisses on her face, which made their own lips black from oil.
Sonny, half crying with joy, choked out the words “Mom, you made it, you made it.”
Ina managed a smile at hearing Sonny’s voice. She was so exhausted that she bordered on unconsciousness. She wasn’t sure where she was. She just knew that she was safe, and she had heard her husband’s voice and her son’s. She assumed Lucille was also with them.
Ray and some crew members picked Ina up and gently carried her below to a bunk. The white sheets slowly turned black as oily water drained from her coat, nightgown, and skin.
Attacked at Sea Page 11
