Shipwrecked Temptation (part 1)

We were two days out of Hawaii, sailing a nice twenty footer and really enjoying the warm tropical sunshine. Just the two of us, heading out to New Zealand with perfect weather. The boat was well stocked, and fitted with good navigation aids, including a satellite locator system. Sailing had now joined flying in sophistication of radar and sat-navigation electronics, taking one of the oldest forms of travel into the twenty-first century.

Lena took every opportunity to work on her tan, since her fair skin was prone to burning; we kept a chart of her exposure. Exposure was the right term too, as she sunbathed on the forward deck in the nude. San Francisco to Hawaii had taught her to cover up, first against the cold, and later to keep from turning lobster red. Now she had a respectable tan, after almost two weeks of sailing and tropical climes. Her dark blonde hair was turning lighter, and her skin darker. Each day, she became lovelier, and I never missed the chance to tell her. She urged me to go "native" and for a while I did. We agreed that we'd wait until evening when the sea anchor was dropped and we wouldn't drift so far off course.

Late afternoon showed dark clouds across the entire horizon. I had Lena take the wheel, while I checked the weather-satellite readouts. The little machine hummed as it spat out the paper, and what I saw didn't look very good. A large storm was moving across the Pacific, and the reports indicated that the winds were running about 50 knots. I began plotting a course to take us away and south of the storm, adding perhaps a day to our voyage. Once course corrections were made, we watched the clouds and we both were confident we'd miss the storm. It turned out that we didn't go quite south enough, and towards dusk, the sea began to swell and rock our tiny boat. Lena brought up clothes and rain gear, and we both worked at keeping our boat upright. She manned the wheel, while I kept the rigging from fouling in the harsh weather.

The rain and wind were warm at first, but the fading sun soon brought a chill to our soaked bodies. We worked on into the night, trying to steer the little craft into the waves to keep from capsizing. We both wore our life jackets, just in case, and I made sure that the beacons worked on them. Some sailboats have small diesel engines to help in a storm like this, but we did not. We were completely dependent on the wind, and now we had far too much of it. Rain slashed and stung, both of us wearing glasses had a hard time seeing. Not that there was much to see in the darkness, but it still made our work difficult.
About eight pm, I struck the sails, as the wind was now howling about us, threatening to topple our boat. I had Lena activate the distress beacon on the bow, sending an automatic s.o.s. to a satellite far overhead, then radio our situation and to see if there was a larger vessel nearby. The radio just crackled in silent response, depressing us both. I hoped that I was wrong about a nagging suspicion that this storm was turning into a hurricane. Each time I tried to set a southerly course, the wind or waves tilted the boat over far enough for water to flow over the decks. "Keep tacking" I thought, trying to set a zigzag course, hoping that I could "zig" southward enough. Lena's hand gripped my arm tight, telling me that she was worried too. In the midst of the commotion, her arms circled my waist and hugged me, easing the tension from me. I looked at her and smiled, and she smiled back.

Somewhere around midnight, things started to go wrong in a hurry. First a wave crashed onto the fore deck, snapping the main mast like a toothpick. I grabbed Lena and pulled her down, just as the mast crashed against the deck. Another wave washed it off the bow, taking a large piece of the railing with it. Leaping forward, I cut the rigging lines that were fouled and holding the potential battering ram close to the boat. I made the mistake of being in the way as one rope caught my calf and yanked me off my feet. I groped for a handhold, and found a rope, but it was speeding out to sea, with the mast.
The friction burned my hand and through the sleeve of my jacket. The ocean seemed determined to claim me and another wave slammed over the deck, nearly washing me overboard. I heard a scream as I locked my arms around what was left of the railing. Lena turned the rudder hard over, and I rolled back onto the deck, coughing seawater. Lena yelled for me to get back quickly, and I felt like I was moving through molasses. She said I almost sprinted over the deck.

She saw my arm as I took the wheel, trying to keep us upright. The salt water burned and I hissed, but Lena insisted that she wrap it quickly.

She came up with the first aid kit and wrapped my arm as best she could in the pitching seas. I was proud of her courage, and she gave me strength. That is until I saw her face was drained of color, her lips pressed tightly together. I asked her what it was. "Water is coming in from the deck." She said. "There's about two inches of water on the floor." Again, she didn't say we were sinking, but we both felt it. I looked below, and saw that her estimate was correct. I gave her the wheel and went below, finding that the water was leaking from several long, large cracks in the main deck. The snapping of the mast had taken a toll on the little craft, and now the waves were trying to finish her. The boat pitched violently, tossing me against the wall. I clambered out and found Lena struggling hard to turn the wheel against the waves. I pushed with her, trying to nose our boat into the next wave, praying that we'd be able to ride out the storm. I looked up through the darkness and saw a vague outline. "GET DOWN!" I yelled, and I grabbed Lena and pulled her to the deck underneath me. Something slammed the side of the boat, ripping away the top of the cabin, the wheel and most of the communications gear. Wood split and cracked and I felt something large and heavy roll across my back. A wave hit hard and we slid towards the edge. I grabbed Lena's life vest and the railing and hooked my feet into what was left of the cabin. We stopped.

I pulled her to me and we crawled up, seeing that our boat was now very crippled, her cabin partially smashed and water beginning to flood her below. I grabbed a duffle bag that had survival equipment, and pulled a small raft from under the afterdeck's compartment. "Time to leave!" I shouted over the wind. Lena's face told me that she knew it too, but didn't want to go. I didn't either, but it was time.

A wave rocked the boat, and a roar filled our ears. The world suddenly seemed to be yanked from under us, Lena falling against me and both of us falling into the flooded cabin. I held on to her as the boat rocked again, tilting at an impossible angle. Wood complained about stresses, and I was sure that it was all over. The darkness of the cabin felt like a coffin, and I tried to stand. I realized Lena was limp in my arms and new, real, fear clawed at my insides. Struggling against the angle I tried to reach the deck, holding Lena in one arm. I felt the steps and pulled hard, trying to get us both out of the sinking boat. The boat pitched the other way then, and I felt us both flung into the air. My arm complained about the weight it was pulling and I gripped Lena with every ounce I had left. I held my breath, hoping that we wouldn't go too deep and I could surface us before Lena drowned or I did.

We hit sand.

The jarring impact stunned me, and I thought we'd landed back on the boat, for a moment. The gritty sand in my mouth and face took several seconds to recognize as land. Water rushed up to our waists, and I pulled Lena up onto the beach. I fumbled for the flashlight in my pocket, my hand found her neck and felt for a pulse. It was there, strong and steady. The light played across her soaked hair and face, showing a small gash near the hair- line. Not big enough for stitches, but the idea of a concussion didn't make me feel any better either. I checked her for broken bones and other injuries and was relieved to find none. I scooped her up in my arms and carried her up onto the beach, laying her well away from the water.

Wind whipped sand into my eyes and I peeled off my rain jacket, tucking it around her to keep her warm. Against the wind and rain, I could see ship's shape in the gloom, at the shore lying almost on her port side. I found one of those chemical light-sticks in my life jacket pouch, and I tied it to Lena's hand so that I could find her in the dark if I became disoriented. The green glow made the whole thing seem like and eerie dream. I staggered to the boat, wanting to salvage what I could before exhaustion set in or before the tide hauled her under.

All things considered, I did pretty well. I was able to get plenty of the food items from the boat, along with charts, maps, and a sextant. The radios were smashed completely. I even found our survival duffle bag on the beach where it had washed ashore. The rocks along the shore trashed the beacon unit, but many things were still useful. I'm not sure where the energy came from, but I kept slogging along until the job was done. My watch said it was 03:00 a.m. Hawaii time.

I piled all our equipment and supplies high up on the beach, and checked Lena again. She hadn't moved, still lying in the same position I'd left her. Her pulse and breathing were still strong, and since the wind was letting up, I decided that I'd set up a lean-to shelter for now. Rain still fell after the winds died away, and they were the warming rains one is used to in the tropics. The spare sailcloth made an excellent makeshift tent, and I used some branches to support it over Lena. Wearily, I crept in the shelter next to her and lay down, putting my arm around her protectively. Chaos reigned in my mind, trying to deal with the storm, Lena's injury, a shipwreck, and being lost in the vast Pacific. I feel into an exhausted sleep shortly, hoping that this would all workout.

I awoke feeling hot and wet. The wet I thought was from the rain, but as I moved, I realized that it was a steamy hot day and sweat was soaking me, wrapped as still was in the rain gear. I reached over and found that Lena wasn't under lean-to with me and panic filled me for a moment. I crawled out and blinked in the bright light, looking around for her. Shaking my sleep fogged brain, I looked again, and my heart sank when I didn't see her on the beach. I turned towards the ocean and saw the Mary Jo, her cabin a splintered shambles, lying on her side well up on the beach. Something moved near the cabin and I saw Lena's blonde hair as she climbed down to the beach. My legs carried me over towards the boat, complaining about the exertion. She hadn't seen me yet, and as I hit the wet sand she turned around, looking at me in surprise. She ran over to me and stopped, looking at me as if I had just reappeared from thin air.

"Oh God! C'mon babe, let's get you back in the shade and lay down." She said, both chastising me and sounding worried. She moved to my side and slipped under my arm as if I couldn't support myself. I pulled her to me, my arms wrapping around her, holding her tight. She seemed to be afraid of hugging back, as if I'd break. Then she held me tight, melting into my arms and kissing me hard and passionately. After a few seconds, I felt weak and my knees started to buckle. She kept me on my feet and helped me back to our small shelter. I sat in front of the lean-to, dizzy and feeling weak.

Lena opened some canned fruit, and proceeded to feed me by hand. Her eyes betrayed the concern she felt for me, but I was too tired to ask her why. After I had my fill of sliced peaches, she insisted I at least drink some of the syrup for liquid (that a girl...drown me with kindness). She finished off the peaches and told me to lie down and rest.

"Wait a minute." I said. "I thought I'd be taking care of you. I'm still worried you might have a concussion." She smiled and kissed me on the cheek, her hand on my chest making me lay back down, partially in the lean-to. "Sweetheart," She began, looking into my eyes. "You've been out cold for a day and a night. And your back looks terrible. I thought you were really hurt bad, internally. I was scared to death I'd lose you."

My back did feel very sore and tender, but I'd thought it to be from the exertions the night before, two nights I corrected myself. I sat up, feeling the stiffness in my joints and back. I looked at the cut on her forehead, and it seemed tiny in comparison to what I thought I'd seen in flashlight. "How, are YOU though?" I asked. "Any dizziness or headache?" I kept quiz- zing her on her condition, feeling elated when she said that two aspirin had taken care of a slight headache the morning after the storm. Then I chastised her for taking the risk of climbing on the wreck of the Mary Jo. She laughed, but I was serious. She put her hand on my chest and told me that she had slipped in after the tide went out. No risk. Lena fumbled in the duffle she'd carried out of the boat, and found a pair of metal mirrors.

One she gave to me and the other she held behind me so I could see my back after she pulled my shirt off. Someone had painted a long diagonal purple, black, and blue strip about a foot wide on my back, and in several places I had minor abrasions. It looked a lot worse than it felt. "Now do you see why I was worried about you, Mr. Tough Guy?" She said in a sarcastic tone. I asked what happened the next morning, since I'd rudely slept straight through it.

Lena had awakened in the lean-to sometime after dawn, feeling warm. She sat up, and her head pounded its objection. She saw me, face down on part of the sailcloth and tried to rouse me. When that failed, she checked my pulse and breathing as I had done for her. She checked me for broken bones and when she lifted my shirt, she thought I was seriously injured. She made her own assessment of our situation and checked over our supplies. All the long talks about survival came back and she set up driftwood for a signal fire, and drew S.O.S. in huge letters in the sand. She'd explored a bit of the nearby jungle like forest, then sat close to me during the warm night until she fell asleep. This morning, she had decided to move us up nearer the forest, and that some minor items needed to be salvaged, including the two metal mirrors. She knew they could be used for signaling planes and boats. She was just coming out of the boat when I woke up.