Rescue at sea
18 December 2013 | Southern Solomon Islands
Patrick
Charles with his relatives in the open boat
Rebecca, quick, get me the stun-gun, the bear spray and the BIG spear gun! The little powerboat was gaining on us, fast. It was nine in the morning, I had just dropped the main sail in preparation for an approaching squall line. The jib and staysail could handle the blow.
On my way down the companionway ladder, I saw what shouldn’t be, an 18' fiberglass open boat approaching from astern. Rebecca and I stood shoulder to shoulder in the companionway as we watched them gain on us. A man in black was at the bow getting a face full of waves. Another man in black was at the outboard engine. Additional people were hiding under a black tarp in the middle of the boat. It made us think of the pirates near the Red Sea, but we are in the Pacific, southern Solomons Islands, over 45 miles to the closest land. But as they pulled alongside, we could see children and a woman’s face under the tarp. "We need help!" the men yelled.
To make communication easier, we first took Charles, the owner of the boat, aboard Brick House. In the ocean waves, the open boat bumped hard against fenders tied to our starboard side, then the boat swerved away to keep a safe distance. During the downpour, Charles explained their serious predicament.
With a total of 10 people on board, they left the Duff Islands at noon the previous day to cross 57 open water miles, SW, to the Reef Islands to pick up more gasoline on their way to attend a relatives funeral on Temotu Island, an additional 45 sea miles to the SW. There are no towns or gas stations in any of these remote places, only villages where everyone lives in thatch huts and harvest what they can from the land. It would be extremely difficult to obtain gasoline in any of those villages. They started out with 10 gallons of gasoline for the 25hp and 15hp outboards, 2 liters of fresh water and for food, a bucket of dried breadfruit chunks. To an Americas tast, this is equal to smoked dog biscuits. Our present location placed them 65 miles off course. During the night, they went through the same stormy, rainy, weather with gusts up to 35 knots, that other cruisers, including us, were complaining about on our morning SSB conversations. With no compass, no observable stars, a very confused sea, they became totally lost till the sails of Brick House appeared.
Soon, we had 10 natives spread around the cockpit and deck with their motorboat on a very long tow line. You can imagine how difficult it would be to trim sails, adjust the Monitor self steering and generally operate a sailboat with that many bodies in the way. But they were willing to learn how to put a line clockwise around a winch and were eager to help. In a short time they took over steering Brick House and did an excellent job steering a compass course.
Some of our guests were picking nits from each others head and the lips of several people were drooled red from chewing and spitting betel nut. A couple people had sheets of sores with scabs and mild infections on their legs and feet. To the infections, we applied topical antibiotic ointment. Charles was badly bothered by his swollen knee. A year ago, with the clap of his own two hands, he reset the knee which had been knocked completely out of joint after a bad fall. Life in paradise can be medically difficult. Even Rebecca was suffering on this trip fighting her own tropical intestinal parasite. But our guests were polite and did not chew betel nut while on our boat.
After such an ordeal, they were offered our bucket of yellow bananas. Like a magic trick, the bucket was empty, with yellow peels leaving a trail in our wake. Next we boiled our taro and yams which also vanished. Several of the older men had few teeth so could not eat the dried bread fruit, till we boiled it. Samantha, the only woman, was quiet and stoic. The one boy and two girls, ages 6 to 12, were very cute and well behaved, never crying or being a problem in the least. The children communicated with ready smiles as they were just learning to speak English.
With a heavy tow and a shifting wind, we could not sail to their destination but settled for the closer island of Utupua, 45 miles to our south west. In the black of night, with disappearing wind, we motored the final 3 hours to a break in the reef.
At 10:30PM, the transfer of everyone was made back onto the 18’ boat. The reef opening to the island was only 1/4 mile away plus they studied the way on our chart plotter. With great luck, there was no wind and a flat sea. This gave the survivors a choice of drifting till daylight or feeling their way in the dark. Even in good light, Brick House could not stop at this island since another cruising yacht recently had to escape under cover of darkness from a terrible ordeal with a corrupt local official. With 5 gallons of gasoline remaining, Charles and his relatives were safe. We gave them new batteries for their dead flashlights plus one of our D-size flashlights and extra batteries. Charles is now the owner of my wrist worn underwater compass. Their water supply was more than doubled with the addition of a 3 liter bottle of water.
Like the villagers we have met everywhere, our guests were very polite yet quiet from fatigue. They seemed to take the ordeal as a shared responsibility, as a family unit, without blaming or bickering. All of them could not have been more agreeable to have on board.
Somehow they will have to find enough gasoline in a village to get them 58 miles NW to Temotu, their destination. Then reverse everything to get back to Duff. Their ordeal is a long way from over yet far easier than if they had not the great luck that our paths happened to cross in the middle of an ocean.