Ahoy Matie

Years ago I had a rather unfortunate incident in my life where I had been swept overboard in a typhoon. I can still picture certain moments in my mind about that horrific night. Bedlam ensued, as sailors tried to trim the sails all in the hopes of keeping the Esmeralda afloat. The wooden galleon teetered from starboard to port, as wave after wave struck us broadside. Our ship seemed nothing more than a cork upon the tumultous ocean.

I remember the screech of the wind being, so powerful that I could not hear the man's voice standing next to me. Then looking over the rails the fiery clouds seemed to envelop our immediate area. The malestrom had caught us far out to sea with no known landmarks, and with the darkened skies no way to ascertain our direction via the celestial night sky.

Every man aboard the Esmerelda prayed, as they fought to gain control of our ship. Then suddenly we saw our doom approach a massive wave, as tall, as five-ships stacked one on the other. I quickly secured myself to the rigging in the hopes that I could ride out the monster wave then took a deep breath, and prayed.

The wave struck battering our wooden ship into match sticks, and sending the remnants down to 'Davie Jones' locker. Lucky, or not I had somehow survived and found myself floating on some debris of our ship. I tried to raise up, and scan the immediate area searching for any other sign of life, but alas to tired I passed out.

Waking from time to time I mumbled in my delirium. On one of these occasions I saw a fin cut through the water only a few feet away. Sharks began feasting on my shipmates. The seas around me frothed bright red, as I stared helplessly from the bit of wreckage I had pulled my entire six foot length upon.

Days later dehydrated, and near exhaustion I began to hallucinate. Off in the distance I could just make out what appeared to be an Island and, as I paddled closer the scene vanished before my eyes. I was in desperate need of fresh water, as my lips blistered from the unrelenting glare of the sun. I prayed for a miracle uncertain if the Universe had heard my plea. I passed out for who knows how long, but when I awakened I saw a gourd bobbing within reach. I manuvered my raft towards the gourd desperate to see if it contained water, or rum. A bit more I said to myself, as I reached out and clasped the neck in my hand. In desperation I pulled the stopper out and put the gourd to my swollen, blistered, lips and felt a cool trickle slide down my parched throat.

As near as I could figure out I had been at sea for somewhere around two weeks when once again I saw palm trees on the horizon. I began to paddle with my hands towards what I hoped was indeed an Island and must have passed out in the effort. Jerked, violently from my stupor I felt my hands brush wet sand, and managed to drag myself higher up the beach where I collasped once more.

When I regained conciouness I scanned my surroundings, and saw that I had indeed landed on some sort of an Island, but which one? More than likely one in a thousand along the coastline of Brasil.

My more immediate concerns were fresh water, and food. I found a staff and was able to pull myself to a standing position then began systematically to search for water. Later that afternoon I came across a small creek flowing into the ocean, and followed the stream inland. In my deterioated state it took several hours to make my way to the small pool of water. I remember laying on my belly with my face in the pool gulping the coolness into my throat then I began to choke. My throat had all but swollen shut from my ordeal at sea, and needed time to heal. Day by day I drank a little more.

Next, was some sort of nutrition anything really I was starving. I dug clams from the beach, and smashed their shells on the rocks then swallowed there contents in one gulp. Again my stomach refused, and I threw up what I had just eaten. Desperate, I knew if I did not cosume some sort of food I would surely die. Determined I began to slowly ingest smaller portions opting on grasshoppers, beetles, and worms. All high in protien then returned to the beach, and dug up more clams. Once I began to feel that my legs were able to hold my body I began to search inland for more sustenace. I found a mango grove and gathered several that had fallen. Returning to the pool where I had constructed a rough shelter from fallen Palm leaves I began to separate the outer skin from the inner orangey flesh.

That was fine for a while, but what I really wanted was some fish that's when I found some flint and began to chip away until I had a pointed spearhead. Using my spearhead I was then able to cut the length of a young sapling then split one end to hold the spearhead. I then soaked strips of leather, and wound them tightly around the split end, and set my spear into the sun to dry. Several hours later I stood waist deep in the ocean, and calmly waited spear poised to strike. A flicker of silver caught my eye then another, as some sort of fish swam by. I struck suddenly, but unfortunately the bend of water resulted in a loss. I squinted my eyes against the glare of the sun and began to percieve the difference then struck again, and this time was rewarded. I took my prize to shore, and placed the fish in a basket I had made weaving roots together.

The days passed into weeks, and then months, as I survived the best way I could gathering what little food the Island had to offer. I sat there one day contemplating my future, and wondered how long I could continue to survive. The seasons were changing, and I wondered how I could survive the hurricane season in my rustic shelter.

Over the course of the previous weeks I had found the high spot of the Island, and would scan the horizon for a ship ready to ignite the bonfire I had ready.

Then a week later I was back at the lookout, and raising a hand to my brow scanned the horizon in every direction. A blip... could it be a ship I wondered, as I hastily lit my signal fire, and fanning the flames watched, as the flames leapt higher. I watched as the ship drew nearer, and jumped up and down waving my arms, and screaming on the top of my lungs.

The ship fired off a cannon round to acknoweledge they had seen my signal fire, and I watched, as a skiff was lowered into the water then raced for the beach.

I was so excited to see men coming ashore I raced towards them and thumped the first sailor I met on his back. What were the chances that these sailors were also Dutch as I was.

The Salvadore a Dutch merchant ship disguised, as a Spanish ship lay just offshore.

We sat around a fire, and feasted on mangos, and fresh fish, and later a jug of rum was passed from sailor to sailor. The moment the Jamacian rum slipped down my throat, I gasped. How long had it been since I had been shipwrecked?

The following morning we went out with the tide, and sailed for Indonesia.

Author's Note: I rather enjoyed writing this adventure picturing myself as the wayward soul washed overboard. Using my wits, imagination and creativity to survive.

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