Back to the US? Part 2 of 3

To recap our crossing so far and in case you missed part 1, although we suggest you read it. Back to the US? Part 1  We have been up since 4am. It is now about 16 hours later. It is dark. We are only 30 miles off the coast of Miami but out of cell and radio range. We are now dead in the water, meaning we have no source of propulsion and are at the mercy of the wind, waves, and the Gulf Stream. I run down inside to check with Steve. I can see it in his eyes. It doesn’t look good. He’s not one to panic. Never has been. Maybe he learned that during his military service. Maybe it's from years as a first responder, responding to thousands of emergencies. Nothing really hits his panic button, unlike me. Everything hits my panic button and mine has been going off for hours. But when I saw his eyes, I saw the first spark of panic I can ever recall seeing. Starting with his eyes, I took a look at him. He was covered in black. Grease, oil, dirt, fuel, everything mixed together to an ashen, dark grey that covered his face, chest and shorts. Then I noticed the streaks. Streaks of skin tone all over his body from the sweat pouring down. And that’s when I noticed it. It – the absence of sweat at all. It was at least 240 degrees in that engine room and Steve wasn’t sweating. Not one drop. I quickly ordered the kids to make Steve a large water and to keep it coming. I demanded him to stop and drink. “Okay” he said “but I have to get back and get at least one running.” His dedication sometimes takes me by surprise. I’m not sure why, anymore. I’ve never met anyone with more dedication than our Captain. “Drink”, I order him. “At least two, then you can work again.”

Steve in his sauna during the day

I returned to the bridge, to keep an eye out. We were now at the mercy of the sea. No longer in control of which way we pointed, or even which way we headed. We were sideways to the waves, tipping side to side with each set. With the blackness of the sky, we were always caught off-guard when a particularly big wave came, not knowing ahead of time to grab hold of something until it was too late and the wave had knocked us over. The kids and I gathered all our safety gear into one place. We all had our life vests on already but we added lights and whistles, just in case. I’ve never been afraid of the sea. Never had a reason to be afraid of it. That was until now. There is something so terrifying about the vastness of the dark. The knowledge setting in that the sea held all the power, we held none. We were at it’s mercy and that is a scary place to be.

I went below to check on Steve. He stood up to give me a briefing and it all happened so fast. First I looked at his eyes. I saw the blankness of his stare. Then I noticed his knees buckle and I saw the flash of white in his eyes as he went down. “JACOB!” I screamed at him for help and I jumped forward to catch Steve. The kids came running, panic in their faces. I had tried so hard up to this point to keep calm. For them, I was calm. For them, up to this point, our crossing was just another adventure. That adventure ended here. They helped me pull their father up to the floor above our engine room. I was so thankful for just how big and strong Jacob has gotten. He seemed to be even stronger now. Dani grabbed water, I held Steve as he slowly blinked his eyes and came to. “Crap! Are you alright?!” I squealed at him, not doing a good job of holding in my panic. “Yes, I’m fine, just lightheaded.” he tried to calm me. “Light headed my ass. You passed out!” I corrected him. He swore he was fine, just needed some water. He drank two big cups and sat on the couch while we tried to figure out what to do. He had another idea of something else to try. We both agreed we had to get at least one motor running. We rocked back and forth, tossed around like a bathtub toy. I told him how we were losing ground. We were floating up with the Gulf Stream. Heading north and east at about 2 knots. I told him how I could see the lights of the ships. Ships that we could not get away from. He told the kids to turn on all the lights. Inside and outside. We agreed that I would stay on the bridge up top, so I could keep watch and make sure we didn’t get in the path of any of the ships. As we finalized our newest plan, Steve stood up again and promptly passed out cold once more.

I don’t cuss a lot. Okay, I TRY not to cuss a lot, but I have to be honest here. I let out a string of curse words that would make a pirate blush. Steve came to just as I was kneeling down to his side. I saw that look in his eyes again. He knew he was in trouble. He knew we were in trouble. He knew my panic was at maximum capacity and as the leader, the captain, the medical officer, the mechanic, and the only calm presence, without him we were toast.

“I’m fine, I just need fluids.” he lied to me. I knew it was a lie, but I didn’t have any other choice but to believe it. He was the only hope of us getting the engines running again and getting home. “Head back up top to keep an eye out while I try something else. And, Mimzie, call for help if you have to.” he told me. With that knowing look, telling me without words, that I needed to be able to make that call without him telling me to. I nodded understanding and went back up top. Grabbing hold along the way, as we continued to bob around at the mercy of the black waters. I spotted a large ship on the horizon. I wondered where it was heading. It wasn’t but about 30 minutes later before I had to do what Steve had just told me to do. 30 minutes later when our first call went out. Steve had passed out a third time and I wasn’t able to get him to wake up right away. I grabbed the radio with a trembling hand, and with an even shakier voice, I broadcasted our call for help.

 

“MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY. This is motor vessel Miss Daisy on channel 16. We are dead in the water with a medical emergency. We are without engines and our captain has passed out from heat stroke. I am unable to wake him up. I repeat, we are dead in the water and our captain has lost consciousness for the third time. Our current location is [I inserted our GPS coordinates here]. Please, we need help.” I repeated something similar 2 additional times. Steve had began to stir and come around. I went to him and told him I called for help. He was able to sit up and the kids kept him stocked with water. I waited for a response on the radio. I checked the cell phone for service. No luck there. No response on the radio. Could anyone even hear us?

I stumbled upstairs. The waves seemed to be getting rougher. Maybe it was just that we were getting tossed with them that made it so unstable. I grabbed another radio.

“MAYDAY, MAYDAY, MAYDAY. This is motor vessel Miss Daisy on channel 16.” As I began, I looked out on the horizon. There I saw it. The large ship was closer. The flood of lights coming off her suggested to me that she was a cruise ship. One setting sail out of Miami, no doubt. And now, no doubt heading our way! I continued my transmission, my voice cracking as I failed at holding back my tears and fear. “We are dead in the water with no engines. Our captain is awake but not too alert. We have our two children aboard. There is a ship heading towards us. Can anyone hear me? This is motor vessel Miss Daisy on channel 16.”

Nothing. Silence except for my gasps as I fought back complete panic. Dani came up and asked what she should do. I told her to just make sure dad was drinking water. I didn’t want her to see me sobbing. I decided I needed to be sure someone knew we needed help. My hope was that someone heard us but we just couldn’t hear them. I grabbed our EPIRB. [Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon]. I activated it. I also grabbed our SPOT tracker. I activated the SOS feature. I then grabbed our back up EPIRB and the backup of the backup and activated both of them. I instantly felt better. I knew these would notify someone. I knew this because we had used our SPOT tracker for over a year and it never once failed to find our location. We had never used the SOS feature but I knew my father had used his once, during a terrible accident with his wife in a very remote area, and help came for them. I also knew that help came for us in Vero the one time Steve was testing our EPIRBS prior to our US departure and accidently activated one. “Help” showed up in the form of the Coast Guard at our dock, asking us if we had activated our beacon. Oops, our bad, but at least we knew they worked.

I watched as the ship of lights came closer. Still a couple miles away but I knew it was coming and it wasn’t changing directions and neither were we. I grabbed the radio again.

“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, this is motor vessel Miss Daisy on channel 16. PLEASE can someone hear me? Can someone relay for me? I can’t hear any response so I am just going to keep repeating this distress call. We are a 47’ motor vessel with no engines. Our captain has passed out from heat stroke several times but is now conscious. We are a family of 4, with 2 children on board. Our location is [I again inserted our GPS coordinates here]. I have activated our EPIRBs. We are in the line of a ship heading this way. Please send help.”

Coming soon – Part 3, the conclusion of our Back to the US? series.