Though many years have passed, and although I have no real regrets about coming to this island. Having done many a good deed and have helped many a just and kind person, I find my thoughts often going back to my life as it could have been. I have never been a literary man, quite the opposite, what with my poor spelling and atrocious handwriting. I write this narrative for less posterity reasons and more for my own peace of mind. Yes... the memory of standing on that unfamiliar beach that cool July day is still as fresh as today. But let us take a step back, first I shall perhaps begin with the events leading up to the moments of my untimely arrival to this mysterious island all those years ago.
Leaving Sydney on the morning of the 7th on the freight cargo ship "Hannover", bound for London carrying a vast assortment of goods ranging from machine parts to novelty nick-knacks. Docking at most major shipping ports around the globe from exotic Bombay (now known as Mumbai) to Capetown and Boston including every port and harbour inbetween. I myself being a young lad of 20-something had managed to get a berth on the ship with the aim of travelling to England, having a brief stop over in the Cape being intent on seeing the world.
Being of a less than merger financial statues a paying wage on a cargo freighter was my ticket. Through several friends and many telephone calls I managed to convince a friend of a friend who was a second mate of a ship to take me as far as the Capetown. For many ships these days take the Suez passage into the Mediterranean, being of a mind that it is quicker and safer, for the Cape of Good Hope stills has a boat or two go missing into the deep now and then. Though the second mate assured me that most that go missing are small fishing boats and yachts, that the last major ship to go down was nearly fifty years ago. He forgot to mention that no ships had sunk; only two years ago a sizable cargo ship had to be towed due to being badly damaged in a storm.
But most of these thoughts at the time were forgotten, what with the sheer excitement of going on an adventure too far off lands with strange sounding names, meeting new people and seeing new wonders. Sadly these imaginings were quickly dispelled, having already docked at three harbours so far, I have seen nothing more than the inside of a shipping agents office and briefly at that. Being confined to the galley and lower decks.
Throughout the sea voyage I merely assisted with the cook preparing meals and other cleaning duties around the vessel. During my time on board however I managed to mingle with the crew, a rough and ready bunch, who treated me kindly enough as more of a passenger than crew. The ship, as I have mentioned, was the 'Hannover', a Dutch cargo freighter in origin with only the second mate and captain able to speak English fluently with the rest speaking broken phases and words. The second mate was an English born Dutchman by the name of Hubert Perry. A nice enough sailor but a bit dull, keeping to himself most days. The ships master who's name still puzzles me, a Canees or Canis Welch, something or other. He was a stout some would say portly sized man with red cheeks and always smiling or laughing at some joke I didn't get. His duties round ship kept him busy at most times of the day so I talked little to him.
Five days had lapsed after our departure from Bombay and the start of the heavy weather. The sailing up until this point had been steady and calm, but now the ship was progressing at a snail's pace. What was worst I was confined to my dreary cabin, being prone to sudden bouts of sea-sickness. I need not tell you my experience of 4 straight days in a confine cabin badly ill, due to unrelenting rain. Suffice to say you'll understand my joy that on the fifth or 23rd day of our voyage saw a final relief with a sudden break in the weather. It seemed that the heavy weather was behind us, and I myself finally was rid of my sea-sickness, managing to go above decks and sit in the sun.
Though that cool July day was quite dreary by standards with just a grey mass of overcast clouds and blotches of sun. But it was good to just sit staring upwards, dreaming of home and a warm beach in the sun. Though the crew always kept one eye on the weather most days, the break in the storm led to a more relaxed and calm mood on board. With most men either cleaning and repairing parts broken or dislodged over the past few days, thought it has to be said many were just relaxing and joking with each other on deck in the warm sun. Even the Captain, usually busy on rest days, seemed to be enjoying himself more and napped to rest of the day. Second mate Perry on the other hand always had a cautious sway about him even on calm days, stating that, "storms come back as quickly as they go", but we payed little heed to him. But clouds were on the horizon.
Now what shocked me the most, for we had encountered storms previously in the journey, was the suddenness of it and not forgetting the sheer anger in its downpour. Being more akin to a hurricane then any storm I've been in. The wind whipped and roared on deck forcing you to hold on with your very being. Feeling the ship beneath you strain and crack against the cruel sea, felt that the world had turned upside-down and gone mad. The ship twisted and turned this way and that with every battering, helpless as a leaf caught in a downpour. Cast aside being a mere toy for a primeval god, Cruel, random and unrelenting.
Poor old Hannover, I weep for you still, her engines pounded in protest to this treatment, the water pumps failing under the massive amounts of water and debris flying all over the place. Captain Welch barking orders in some vain attempt to save the ship, but alas a rogue wave swept him and two others over board. With a pumps jammed and Captain lost, the last hope of saving the ship was gone. Suddenly lisping to one side and quickly gaining water, the order was that all hands would abandon ship and launch the life rafts.
And now I am ashamed to say that while men were bravely helping the effort to abandon ship, I hid inside a cargo container on deck. Away from the world outside and all its troubles. Now I'd like to say that I'm not a coward but I firmly believe that many a person would have done the same in such a sudden situation of confusion and doubt. There is no way of knowing how a person will act in such circumstance of life and death. You might not agree, but that is what happened on that fateful night.
However, in this moment of fear and uncertainty, fate dealt me a kind hand. One of the fastening ropes stranded and snapped at the ships sudden lisp, having been weakened by the pervious storm. Hearing nothing of the outside world other than the mournful wind and rain, I failed to hear the warning that the container was lose. Suddenly free of its fastenings, the container lurched and tumbled over the side into the cold briny.
With the world turning and spinning, I was ejected out of the container with considerable force. My shoulder, taking the brunt of the force was deeply cut on a shard of metal and bled crimson. Reeling with pain and plunging into the foaming surge left me dazed and numb. Of my time in the turbulent ocean I remember little, suffering no doubt from shock. Of what I do remember is glancing back at the ship in its final moments, of its funnel still belching out plumes of smoke as it disappeared beneath the waves. Vainly I tried to swim towards the wreak hearing men's voices shouting in the dark, but with one lame arm and that I'm not the best swimmer at the best of times, the storm drifted me further and further away.
It took me some time before it finally came to my realisation that I was lost with no hope of rescue. Forlorn in the dark swirling seas of the vast emptiness that is the Indian Ocean. Looking out onto the rolling peaks and valleys of the foaming waves, with a bright full moon lighting the darkness. This light brought me no comfort, haunting me like a great eye beading down upon me and only showing the truly desperate situation I was in. The great emptiness equalizes all
I thought about my friends and family back home, the ones I left behind. In my selfish quest for adventure, I left them to find nought but despair. I do not know how long I was on those rolling plains for, only that it seemed a life time though it may have been hours or mere minutes I could not tell as I drifted. Being alone for so long with no one but your thoughts and knowing the evitable, a sudden calmness came to me, whether from blood loss or an acceptance of my situation (I believe the latter) my thoughts on what my end would be though gruesome did not faze me in the slightest.
Contemplating these thoughts, this next part of my tale will sound like utter delirium to most people. It is possible that I was still suffering from the after affects of blood loss and shock, I must admit, at the time being half senseless as I was, I still find it hard to truly believe. Bobbing helplessly in the great ocean, I began to feel the sudden sensation of being lifted. Thoughts raced through my mind with images of great white sharks, no a feeding frenzy of sharks ripping me apart or even a whale swallowing me whole, boot, buckle and all. But with my head, with what it was, I failed to realise that I was being lifted by a friendly dolphin. Now I had heard old sailor tales of dolphins following ships and saving seamen lost over board but for it to actually happen was unaccountable.
Still believing it was a shark though, I made a vain attempt to fight it off but being so long in the water I didn't have the fight in me. But to my endless delight I was being carried instead of eaten. I don't know why, whether it was the will to live or just a reaction to hope from the unlikeliest of places, I held fast (surprisingly more difficult than made out to be). Clinging to the dolphin with the last of my feeble strength, I was now determined to survive this ordeal. Now I am not an overly-religious man but I thanked god for this and how the fates smiled upon me that day.
Joining a pod of other dolphins we made our way into morning with calmer waters, towards what I could tell was land. Realising me at the start of the heavy breakers I managed to crawl ashore with my remaining strength, coming to rest with my head on the beach. Oh, wonderful land! I will never speak ill of you as longs as I can stand on terra firma and feel you under my feet. One does not know the feeling of crawling onto blessed shore after what seemed to be a life time at sea. There is no greater feeling then plunging your feet into warm golden sand. Contented with my lot and happy to be alive, I promptly fell sound asleep.