“We’re not going to try that again,” I said to Nancy and Barbara.
“Wow,” Barbara said.
The crew was back in the pilothouse as I called the captain over the radio.
“That took off my deck cleat, anchor, and anchor chain,” I told him. “But you couldn’t give me any of the equipment I needed when I needed it.”
“I recommend accepting the helicopter,” he said. “Unless you can continue on your own.”
“Stand by, please,” I said.
I was still using the throttles, trying to keep our nose into the seas, but my focus now was on the crew and Barbara and Nancy, who were waiting for something from me. Then I decided to just try it again, what the hell. I steered the course for Casablanca with the engines, working hard on the throttles. I went straight for a minute or two, then spun again.
“Okay, never mind,” I said. “We’ve been trying this for ten hours. I haven’t left the throttles for ten hours.” It was amazing. Each hour I had thought it couldn’t get worse, and each hour it had. “We can only get the helicopter during daylight, which is only about two more hours, but really a bit less in this weather. Let me check our position again for a second.”
I went to the chart and plotted our position while Matt used the engines to try to keep us into the waves. The waves were just big enough and steep enough to roll and capsize us if one hit exactly right while we were sideways in the trough.
“We’re only about fifteen miles from land,” I said. “Sixty miles from Casablanca, but only fifteen from land, which means we could drift enough during the night to go aground in high surf. I can’t keep the boat going straight under power, which means I can’t control the boat or guarantee we won’t drift into land. We’re not on fire, and we’re not sinking. The boat is still seaworthy.”
“Ha,” Barbara said.
“We are still seaworthy,” I said. “Because we’re not on fire or taking on water. But I can’t think of any other options right now. I can’t figure out how to make this work. We can’t get a tow, we can’t make our own way, and it’s not safe to just wait for better weather or a better chance at a tow, because night is coming and we’re too close to land and these seas are big enough to capsize us and may get bigger.”
I was starting to repeat myself, I knew. It was because I was getting choked up. The feeling came out of nowhere. It was the thought of having to tell my crew that we would be abandoning ship, something I had never imagined I would say. I wonder if any captain really believes he or she will ever have to give that order. It was almost impossible to speak. “I think we have to abandon ship,” I said. “I don’t think the helicopter is that great an idea, either, and I always thought it would be safest to stay with the boat, even if it was swamped, but I can’t guarantee your safety onboard anymore, so it’s time to get off.”
No one looked happy, but no one disagreed, either.
I called the German captain. “Please call the Moroccan Coast Guard and ask them for the helicopter as soon as possible.”
He asked for confirmation and I gave it.
“David?” Barbara asked. “How do we get onto the helicopter?”
“They drop a diver and then we get into the water one at a time and they lift us up on a harness or in a basket, with the diver helping us while we’re in the water.”
“I don’t swim.”
“I know. You’ll be wearing a lifejacket, and the diver will help you.”
“I won’t be able to see, either, without my glasses.”
I didn’t know what to say to her. It was terrible.
“You have to promise me you’ll go with me, David. If you’ll go into the water with me, I’ll do it.”
I thought about that. It meant I’d be in the water the whole time she was being lifted up. I couldn’t help but think of sharks. I’ve always been unreasonably afraid of them. “Okay,” I said. “I can’t think of why not. We’ll have to be the last two, and I’ll help you swim to the diver.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
We had to wait about twenty minutes for the helicopter. Everyone trying to think of what he or she needed to take, heading below to collect things.
“You can’t take your stuff,” I said. “It will weigh you down in the water. So no one takes anything except maybe a wallet.”
Matt relieved me at the throttles while I sent another distress message on the Inmarsat saying we were abandoning ship. Then I set off the Inmarsat’s alarm and the Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon (EPIRB) so we could track the boat. And I called the German captain, who verified the helicopter was on its way. I was worried about the helicopter. So many helicopters went down in storms, and our boat was still seaworthy. We were still safely aboard it. The weather was even starting to die down, the wind just over forty knots, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t come right back up. The weather reports weren’t telling us much. I was also worried about salvage rights. If I stayed on board, no one could claim salvage rights, but if I left, anyone could claim the boat, I believed. I wasn’t completely sure.
“I keep thinking I should stay with the boat,” I told everyone in the pilothouse. “So no one can claim salvage rights.”
“David,” Barbara said. “You promised. You’re coming with me.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m not thinking straight. It’s just that if I lose this boat, I’ve lost everything. Even if I get a full payout on the insurance, I owe more than that in the business and I have no way back.” It was stupid to be talking aloud about all of this, I knew, but I couldn’t help it. I’ve never been great at keeping my own counsel.
“The boat’s not worth it,” Barbara said. “You’re making the right decision. And you’ll find a way back. I know you will.”
I didn’t believe her, of course. I felt beat.
I got on the radio with the German captain. “Do you know how salvage rights work?” I asked him. “If I get off the boat, can the next person who climbs on board claim the boat?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’m not sure what all of the laws say.”
“Okay,” I said. “Then I’d like to notify you and anyone else hearing this, notifying all stations that I am not giving up any rights to this vessel. I intend to come back in another boat tomorrow and get back on board. I am getting off the boat now only to assist with the safety of my crew and passengers, but I am not abandoning the vessel.”
There was no response from the German captain or from any other station. I hailed the German captain again and made arrangements to use his liferaft, in case the helicopter plan didn’t work. Then I was talking to the crew about the helicopter versus the liferaft. I don’t think anyone wanted to hear, but I felt I needed to warn them. “The sides of the ship are pretty high, so there’s some risk there on the rope ladder, but otherwise the liferaft might be safer. The helicopter might be riskier. Sometimes they go down in storms.”
Nancy looked at me and I could tell I should shut up. I was not exactly reassuring Barbara or the crew. So I shut up.
The German captain came on over the radio and said we should see the helicopter any minute, and then we heard it and saw it coming in low. I took my handheld VHF onto the aft deck to talk with the pilot.
I called the helicopter on the VHF but didn’t get a response. They were hovering close enough that I could see the pilot and copilot, so I held my VHF in the air and pointed at it and tried hailing them again, but nothing happened, so I went back to the helm and tried on the mounted VHF. The German captain came back instead.