Suddenly Overboard (17 page)

The boat came up to a heel of only 20 degrees and, his arms and legs shaking, his muscles limp, he collapsed on the lower cockpit seat and covered his head and ears with his hands to block the furor of flapping sails and flailing lines.

For a long minute he just sat and waited for something more to happen, feeling certain some final awful thing was about to occur. He had almost capsized during a simple tack. Now the mast would likely come down or the hull would split open beneath him.

But all that happened was the furious noise of the sails flogging. Eventually he moved slowly to the mainsheet, got it wrapped on the winch drum, and found a winch handle. He started cranking it in just to ease the ruckus, not even sure where the bow was pointed or how the rudder was set.

It took what felt like an hour before he'd regained control and had
Take It Easy
sailing again. Judging from the coast lights at his back and the wind on the port beam, he was apparently sailing southeast. Maybe toward Bimini. Definitely toward the Gulf Stream, which wasn't all that many miles away.

The wind had not dropped, though.

He would have to go back hard on the wind again to continue north.

He leaned against the wheel and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he reached into his pocket for his phone. It wouldn't come on. He knew the battery wasn't that low yet. He felt the wet fabric of his jeans and realized the phone had gotten soaked in salt water.

In the dark he couldn't read his watch to see how long it was until dawn. Somewhere down below he had a flashlight, which he hadn't thought to keep in the cockpit because he always had his phone, with its nifty flashlight app, on him.

He didn't dare lock the wheel and go below. With these waves the boat would almost immediately jibe or tack if left unattended and the whole nightmare would start all over again.

He looked around the cockpit, trying to imagine another 6 to 7 hours of this in the dark. He took a moment to coil the sheet ends and straighten up the cockpit. He sat on the high side, one hand on the wheel, and watched the waves. Then he looked back around the boat, eyes coming to rest on the new handheld VHF clipped to the binnacle, a recent Christmas gift from his parents. He looked at it a long time. It hadn't been on today, so the charge should be
good. It was a submersible type, so the spray shouldn't have affected it. And it was brand new, so it shouldn't have broken yet.

He didn't think he was supposed to make a Mayday call if he wasn't actually sinking or something. He waited a minute to think about what to say if he was lucky enough to be heard. But he couldn't think; he was too exhausted.

In the end he simply turned it on, confirmed the channel on 16, thumbed the mic, and said, “Coast Guard? This is the sailboat
Take It Easy
.”

It took the Coast Guard cutter only an hour to reach him. Two crew boarded and helped him get the sails down, and then they got him aboard the cutter and took the sailboat in tow. He had some difficulty trying to explain how he'd gotten into this situation without sounding foolish, but the crew were nice enough to say that being too exhausted to continue safely was cause enough for their assistance. Back in port, they filed their report, and the next day the sector issued a routine press release about another successful search-and-rescue case, ending with the usual phrasing that even though there had been no injuries, the case could have easily turned fatal, followed by a list of required and recommended safety gear all mariners should carry
.

Ottawa River, Ottawa, Canada, August 2011
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It was just a simple excursion on the Ottawa River, sailing a ways downstream, then motoring back against the current if the wind grew light, upstream toward the park, and then doing it again. It was a fine early evening, and the three people on the daysailer were enjoying the last hours of daylight. Then, without warning, the outboard motor stalled and they started drifting downstream. One person kept pulling the starter rope and fiddling with the choke and throttle, the second trimmed the sails and tried to keep the boat
moving against the current, and the third looked downstream to where ripples on the water indicated the increasing current as the river approached the rapids. “We better call for help!” he said. He called 911 on his cell and was transferred to the fire department, which operated the water-rescue team. The sailors were advised to drop their anchor before the boat reached the rapids, which they hadn't thought of, and that stopped them long enough for the rescue boat to reach them. Funny what you don't think of in a crisis.

Galveston Bay, Texas, 2007
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The couple had a few drinks and then decided to go for a short sail. Conditions seemed good, with only a light chop on the water and a good wind for sailing. They climbed into the small daysailer at the dock, started the outboard, and motored out into the bay. They'd gone only a hundred yards when a gust of wind blew off the man's hat. He reached for it, lost his balance, and tumbled over into the water. He was a good swimmer, his wife said later, and she expected him to swim right back to the boat. She took the motor out of gear and waited for him. But the wind was blowing the boat away from him. She didn't think to throw him a life jacket. When she put the outboard back in gear, the engine stalled and it took her a long time to get it started, she said later, explaining why it had taken her so long to get back to shore to call for help. His body was found later.

Lake Michigan, Wisconsin, August 2011
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Sometimes it just seems like nothing goes right. The morning had started just fine, a bit breezy but good, as the 61-year-old sailed his 32-footer solo out into the lake. When the wind built too strong for comfort, he decided to turn into a harbor for shelter, but as he started to furl the jib the furling line jammed on the drum. He couldn't get it free while still trying to sail, so he sailed on down the lakeshore a short distance to the next, larger harbor where he was able to turn in. He started the inboard engine, planning to motor slowly up into the wind with the wheel locked while he went forward to free the jammed furler, but when he put the engine in gear, it died immediately. He looked back and saw his towed dinghy blown
up against the transom, its painter disappearing down into the water. It had probably wrapped on the prop shaft. So now his only option was to sail around until conditions improved. But when he looked down the companionway he saw water over the floorboards; could the pressure on the shaft have loosened the shaftlog seal? He couldn't go forward to fix the sail, and he couldn't go below to check the leak. While he pondered his dilemma a wind shift caught the boat sideways and pushed it up against the breakwater at the harbor entrance, and he heard the nasty grinding of fiberglass against rock. He reached for the VHF and called the Coast Guard. Luckily they had a 41-foot cutter inside the harbor and were there within minutes, taking him in tow and bringing aboard a fast pump if needed for the leak. Less than an hour later, he'd regained his composure and was telling jokes as the marina hoisted his dripping boat from the water.

S
mall sailboats—like catamarans, Sunfish, and unballasted daysailers—are known to capsize easily and often in wind gusts or if the sailor loses control of the sails or does not maintain a good balance of crew weight. For the sailors of such boats it is especially important to wear a PFD as well as to be prepared to right the boat or, failing that, to stay with the boat and call for help. As these incidents show, a simple capsize can otherwise quickly become a disaster
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The July day dawned bright and beautiful, a perfect day for sailing from North Wales to Puffin Island and beyond in the family's new sailing dinghy. And what a day they had planned! Mr. Roberts, in his mid-sixties, was looking forward to a great day on the water with his son, who was in his late thirties, whom he still called Junior, and his two young grandsons, Tommy, age 8, and Hayden, age 11. The boys had not sailed before, but Roberts and Junior had sailed the new dinghy six or seven times already and were confident the boys would have a great time. At 4 meters overall, the boat was a bit cramped for the four of them. Its capacity plate limited it to three passengers, but they figured the two boys added up to only the weight of one man. Besides, it was beamy enough to feel quite stable.

Roberts and Junior had talked about the day and were not concerned about taking the small craft a short ways offshore. They had
already sailed it along the coast of North Wales without incident. They even discussed what they'd do if it capsized and how to right it. It had plenty of buoyancy as long as the hatches of the cuddy cabin were secured, and the centerboard provided enough leverage to flip it back upright if it was blown over. The morning weather forecast on television was good, with no severe weather or high winds mentioned.

And they took their usual safety precautions. All four wore PFDs. Roberts never drank, since he was on medication for an irregular heartbeat, and Junior had nothing to drink before or while sailing.

For more than 30 years Roberts had cruised the Welsh coast in his motor cabin cruiser, but in his sixties he became interested in sailing as a more relaxing family pastime. When he saw the new dinghy at a boat show 4 months ago, he'd fallen in love with its lines and the idea of sailing with his son and grandsons, and had bought it on the spot.

They launched the boat off the trailer late in the morning at a boat ramp in Conwy Bay. In a light wind they started the small outboard engine, raised the mainsail, and headed out into the bay.

Soon enough, the wind built and they shut off the outboard and continued under mainsail alone. It was fine sailing, and the boys were excited as the water swirled by the hull. Their destination was Red Wharf Bay, a few nautical miles to the northwest, past Puffin Island. The wind was southwest, giving them a nice beam reach on port tack. There was just enough room in the cockpit for all four of them to sit in a row on the port cockpit seat.

Junior was aft, steering with the tiller and holding the mainsheet in his other hand. Occasionally the wind gusted, but he kept the dinghy on an even keel by letting out the sail whenever they heeled very much. Next to him, Roberts relaxed, feeling proud of how well his son was handling the boat. Forward of Roberts the two young boys simply held on and enjoyed the ride.

For 2 hours they sailed without having to tack or do much at all as Puffin Island grew larger on the horizon.

“Great sail, eh, boys?” Roberts would say, and they would grin.

By two o'clock the wind was getting stronger as they approached the island, still blowing in from the southwest, and Roberts realized the ride would likely get wet soon after they rounded the island and made a close-hauled course to the west for Red Wharf Bay. They were all dressed only in shorts and T-shirts, plus he was wearing a windbreaker, but the sun was warm. With the growing wind, however, the sea had become choppy, with waves rising to 1.5 meters, and soon they were being splashed by spray over the bow. The water was 26°C and felt cold on their sun-warmed skin. Soon Tommy said he was cold. They let him crawl into the cuddy and put the dropboards back in place to keep it dry.

As the wind increased still more, maybe up to 25 knots now, Junior was having trouble holding the mainsheet in one hand while he steered. He took a turn of the line around the cleat beside him to take up the strain but kept a grip on the line so he could let it out quickly if needed.

At 2:30 Junior's wife called on his mobile phone. “Great sailing!” he shouted over the wind. “We're just off Puffin Island now. If the breeze keeps up we'll reach Red Wharf in about an hour.”

She wanted to talk more and hear what their sons thought of the sailing, but he said he needed both hands to control the boat so they rang off.

It may have been that the island funneled more wind on them, or maybe a wind storm was brewing, for a strong gust hit them just as he got his phone back in his pocket. The boat abruptly headed up, turning to port while Junior pulled hard on the tiller to straighten it out. But it was too late; water poured over the port coaming into the cockpit, and with all their weight on that side the dinghy rolled to port and went over.

Then the three of them were in the cold water, joined quickly by Tommy, who threw out the dropboards and pulled himself out of the cuddy as the boat rolled. With the push of the waves the boat continued rolling and turned turtle, water splashing over the inverted hull.

Junior checked that everyone was floating and seemed okay, and then shivering with cold climbed up onto the hull to reach the centerboard, which had swung partway back into its trunk. He extended the board, grasped its end, and pulled back with his body weight.