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SHIPWRECK STORY! True account of survival…!

Judith Deverell

judithdeverell@hotmail.com

„VOGEL FREI:‟ a 28ft. gaff-rigged

Friendship Sloop; built 1970? in

Florida, USA. Wrecked off the

West African coast, Oct. 9th

. 1974.

True story follows!

Photograph of our stranded sloop

just before she was wrecked.

Photographs of the new boat,

built on the beach in Dakar,

W. Africa; and sailed to

Florida, USA, in 1976, by

Hermann Samitsch and

Judith Deverell (nee Evans.)

About the author:

New Zealand citizen, permanently residing in New Zealand, since 1979, now living beside the

beautiful Whangaroa Harbour, in Far North, N.Z.; Judith lives with her husband, Neil, a

boatbuilder, and their children, Felicity and Nathaniel Deverell. They enjoy sailing their mullet

boat “PEACE,” on the harbour, and Nathaniel his competitive dinghy sailing in his Optimist.

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Shipwreck Story! True account of survival…! (Word count: 6,922)

On the desert shores of West Africa!

[Extract from the autobiography, “DAWNING…”]

DAWNING… Chapter Eighteen…

We had an exhilarating sail back to Gulf Harbour from TiritiriMatangi Island! The wind

was perfect and we creamed along! We were all so happy to be together; and it was wonderful to

be at sea again! How I loved sailing! It was in my blood! This beautiful 44ft. yacht, „Cymro:‟

(Welsh for „Welshman,‟) had been part of my childhood. Every summer my parents had taken

my two brothers and sister and I cruising in her for the whole of the long, school holidays. We

had explored Brittany: the west coast of France…the south coast of England…and Ireland…and

the west coast of Scotland. They were wonderful summers full of family adventures and

discoveries! My father and my siblings later immigrated to New Zealand in „Cymro,‟ in 1975; in

an 89 day voyage from Southampton, England, to the Bay of Islands!

So profoundly was I moved by all the glories of this wonderful day that it took me a long

while to get to sleep that night!! Our spiral up to the top of Tiritiri lighthouse, and standing

awhile on its unprotected outside gallery, had made an indelible impression on me!! Images of

white lighthouses with huge waves crashing against them, make their way before my mind‟s eye!

Whilst I can almost hear again, the seagulls screaming! And see those distant ships in the night,

all taking their bearings from the light. Plotting their course to steer well clear of the danger! All

these things parade before me. But eventually I fall asleep!

My dreams become confused. I am taken back to what feels like another lifetime. I seem

to relive the days of my being shipwrecked on the desert shores of West Africa. But it is all very

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confused and muddled up, as dreams are, with bits and pieces of yesterday‟s adventures!! One

minute I am way up on an oddly shaped lighthouse, wildly waving my arms at ship heading

straight towards me! Next I am running along upon the tops of the close packed trees of dense

bush! Then, reaching the coast, leaping down into a desert of massive sand dunes where a little

gaff-rigged yacht is being pounded by monstrous waves! Things past and present are all crazily

mixed together!!

I awaken early still remembering my dream. It sets me to thinking, and my mind in

fascination goes back to remembering the days of my disastrous arrival in Africa so many years

ago! This pattern of thought returns to me often throughout the day as I am busy about the house

with my chores. I half think I ought to write the story down; the children might appreciate it one

day when they‟re older. Those mad things their nutty mother got up to! But know I won‟t. There

was far too much happening in the present to bother with things way in the past.

Then, about a week later, I received a phone call from my father. He had been going

through one of his filing cabinets and reordering it and told me that he had come across a slim

manila folder containing some old letters.

“The folder was in a file under your name, dear,” he said. “I thought I‟d given you all

your bits and pieces long ago; so I was intrigued. I sat down and had a look through them. I think

you might be interested in having them. I‟ll bring it round sometime.”

It wasn‟t long before that manila folder was in my hands. I was amazed! It contained

fifteen letters that I had written to my father from Dakar, in Senegal, West Africa, and from the

West Indies…from a little island called St. Lucia, in the Caribbean. They were all handwritten

and mostly on fragile pink airmail paper, but some were on ordinary paper; but there no

envelopes save one. It gave me a strange feeling to be holding these letters of shipwreck, boat

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building, and sailing distant oceans, when only last week I had been remembering so vividly this

very period of my life!! Yet what had been only of a passing interest then and quite remote, was

now so near, and alive and relevant! My brushed aside half thoughts of writing the story down

suddenly became full bodied!

Carefully I put the letters, sheet by sheet, in clear plastic sleeves in a ring binder before I

read them; they are fragile with age and the ink on the airmail paper ones is fading in places. I

find the letters helpful in remembering things chronologically, and in bringing to light forgotten

things; but, strangely, there are fragments of the story that are either not mentioned in the letters,

or only very briefly, which are so clear in my memory! But then, I was only writing hurried

letters home, not a book. As I ponder over these precious vestiges of the past I am immersed in

them, and once again, I am twenty-one, and writing to my father!

British Embassy, Dakar, Senegal. 28th October, „74. Dear Dad, Received your telegram this morning – message received and understood! … …” “We would be very glad if you‟d pick us up here Dad. We‟d like to go with you all the way to N.Z. … …” “…Here are more details of our shipwreck adventure!?! „ But I hate to make myself go back and remember those nightmareish 3 days. All 3 of us came close to losing our lives, so close that afterwards we were overjoyed at being alive; it makes one appreciate life more than anything else ever could!‟ As I mentioned in the last letter it all began at 1:35 a.m. 9th Oct. I remember only a confusion of robes (ropes,) flapping sails and shouts, screams. We were hitting ground already, too late to gibe or tack. … …” Las Palmas, Canary Islands, we had set out from some days ago, sailing south on our way

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to Dakar. Perfect trade winds weather! Brisk winds; blue, blue skies and sparkling seas! Fresh

flying fish for breakfast! Gathered off the deck! All was going so well. VOGEL FREI was living

up to her name, “free as a bird!” cruising along at a steady five to six knots, without a care in the

world; no notion of what was about to happen that night! The pilot book that gave vital

directions and information to sailors on that particular part of the West African coast, lay

unopened on the cabin table. We had become blasé about information. Did we feel we didn‟t

need it? Or that somehow we knew it all, without reading?! I don‟t know. All I remember is that

we didn‟t read the pilot book! Had we done so we would have known that right about where we

were, there was an insetting current, and we were being swept steadily eastwards, towards the

coast!

Hermann relied on his daily sun sightings with the sextant and his wristwatch. Then

with the Air Tables book plotting our latitude, and what he thought was our longitude, on the

chart; so that he knew how far down the coast we were; but, in reality, not how close in to it we

were!!

Instruments of navigation on board were practically primitive! Just as everything was on

VOGEL FREI; our little 28ft. gaff-rigged, taff-railed, Friendship Sloop! We had no engine, no

life raft, no safety equipment, no VHF marine radio, no GPS, no depth sounder, no electronic

gadgets of any kind, and no form of communication with the outside world! All we had was a

household transistor radio, (two of them, in case one failed,) a clock-cum-barometer, sextant,

compass and charts, and unread pilot books; and thought nothing of it!

It was 1:15 a.m., I was on watch. Hermann and my sister were below, asleep. It was a

beautiful starry night with a lovely moon, and I was enjoying steering by the stars. But I began to

feel hungry. I stood up, and without knowing why, turned to look eastward before I went below

to get something to eat. There on the eastern horizon I noticed a bright line of what I thought was

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moonshine on the sea; but all was so peaceful and perfect, it wouldn‟t hurt to go down below for

awhile…it was just the moon reflecting on the sea…we were far from any land…she was self

steering beautifully from the set of her sails, and I tied up the tiller for she was holding steady to

her compass course all by herself…everything was fine! Down in the saloon I made myself a

sandwich; but I am sleepy. I meant to just grab something, and go straight back out into the

cockpit to keep watch, but… .

1:35 a.m. Suddenly, I‟m thrown hard against the cabin table; there‟s a terrible sound

outside and chaos. VOGEL FREI‟s hurled onto her port side. I leap into the cockpit and all around

me ropes and sails are thrashing about, fit to flay us. The other two are wide awake and shouting

orders. We‟ve hit a sandbar! We must have, there‟s no land in sight. Waves are crashing over us.

They sweep us over what must be some kind of sandbar off the coast, for after some moments

we‟re tossing about, upright again! Then over on our side once more as large waves drive us up

onto hard sand again. The moon, lost behind clouds, all is so dark! We can see nothing of any

land!

There‟s a mad rush to get the anchors. Amongst all the chaos we join as many ropes

together as we can, with the hope of rowing one of the anchors out as far as possible to try and

haul Vogelfrei back into deep water, and to safety. But it is hopeless! The dinghy is repeatedly

swamped and flipped upside down beneath the breakers. I watch in horror as Hermann and my

sister disappear beneath the waves! But each time they eventually reappear dragging the heavily

sunken dinghy back to the beach, to empty her out, and swim back with her to the boat, to put the

anchor in once more, in yet another vain attempt to row it out far enough. Time and time again

they tried, but always failed. This went on till daylight!

In the grey dawn sand dunes appear and we realize this is the coast, and not some sort of

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a sandbar island!! Far along the beach I can just make out something that looks like a small

thatched roof…which turns out to be a little round hut made of sticks. I went dripping along the

beach for help remembering the horror of the night…the dinghy constantly being swamped and

sinking out of sight…the two of them struggling in the roaring but warm seas. I once jumped in,

too; desperate to do something to help! I never thought I would make it back onto the boat. After

many attempts I was thrown against the bobstay. Scrambling to stand up on that chain, I clung to

the bowsprit; and the next crashing wave, unbelievably, tossed me above it, and onto the bow of

the boat!!

Outside the hut I found an old man, on a mat, saying his prayers with a string of beads; he

must be a Muslim, I thought. Although we could not communicate, expect by facial expressions

and hand gestures; he spoke no French, only his native tongue, he seemed to understand

everything! For he immediately got up and came with me back to our stranded vessel. But what

could he do? As he watched our desperate attempts to save our boat he realized his inability to

help us, except to point inland, that we should go there for help, and went back down the beach

shaking his head.

Early morning, and the sun was already hot; we were exhausted but driven relentlessly to

try every means we could. We brought out two more anchors and more rope. Tied the line to the

top of the mast, by main halyard, and dug in the two anchors high up the beach, to try and hold

her down on her side, and stop her from pounding. The sand was like no other sand I had ever

seen! It made a squeaking sound with every step! And it had no holding power, being so super

fine. Just as I finished digging in the furthest anchor another large wave tossed VOGEL FREI

upright! And I was sent flying down the beach hanging on to the end of the loose anchor, as the

mast sprang up! This happened several times before we finally succeeded and had the awful

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pounding stopped!

We didn‟t rest for a moment. Hermann put on his diving gear and weight belts, again

determined to get the anchor as far out to sea as he could; this time walking it out! It was a

foolhardy decision; one that could have cost him his life. Everything went wrong! His scuba gear

failed; and he had not allowed for the tremendous undertow! The beach shelved steeply. Within a

couple of yards one couldn‟t touch bottom, then about another fifty feet, and there it was,

shallow once again, waist height; then deep again beyond that.

He managed to walk it out a way, but then got into difficulties! There were constant

waves breaking over him. I heard him yell. He was being steadily taken out to sea! He was

drowning! I was insane with terror! He was going to die! I had to do something! I very stupidly

swam out, with no line, nothing, but quickly realizing it was useless without a rope, went back

for one, and swam out again. But hearing Hermann‟s cries, I lost the rope and started to panic as

I was bowled over and over, tossed in the waves. I heard no more shouts from him; and I thought

I was going to drown, too. I surfaced for a moment, and in that precious moment, saw him

further down the shore standing waist deep, and safe!! Instantly I was tumbled again; but this

time I had no breath left. Everything became surreal. Then, surprisingly, I feel myself being

grabbed. My sister! She had a rope tied about her, and suddenly I was clinging to it! Somehow,

with her help, I was being pulled to safety, and at last my feet touched sand. What a fantastic

feeling, my feet touching something solid! But I was so weak I couldn‟t stand.

Lying collapsed and coughing on the beach I found myself, after awhile, staring at the

other end of the rope. It was lying on the wet sand before a line of a dozen very tall, African

women, dressed in long, brightly coloured robes. I noticed that they hadn‟t held the rope; nor had

they moved. They just stood there, like statues; but I believed they were friendly natives; why

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wouldn‟t they be? …In all my young years of life I had had no experience of anything except

friendliness from other people. I dragged myself to my knees and crawled to the beached dinghy.

The three of us just stayed there all huddled together gazing at the sea, and then at our beautiful

VOGEL FREI, stranded, like a disorientated whale! But we were all alive!! …And to a God we

didn‟t believe in we gave thanks!! And Hermann and I said crazy things to one another!

After awhile we set to and got to work. We took everything out that we could. We

wanted to save as much as possible, and it would help to make her lighter for when we should

eventually pull her off; we still had great hopes of saving her! At that point, the natives suddenly

come to „life!‟ For they came to us then and began to offer their help, to carry our things out, and

up the beach to safety. They also helped themselves to quite a lot of stuff too! I noticed how

extremely deftly they hid things under their voluminous garments; before they went off and

disappeared. My only treasure went that way! My hand carved wooden mirror, all beautifully

painted, and with my name carved on it; that Hermann had made for me some months ago in

Austria, for my twenty-first birthday present!

We dumped everything above the high water mark; or so we thought; and just as we had

gotten everything out, except for the things screwed on, like the kerosene wall lamps and the

clock-barometer, a native woman „told‟ us, by „sign language,‟ that the tide would come right up

to our mountain of junk! We were so exhausted but we just had to begin again, to shift all our

stuff about another fifty yards further up the beach. The natives had all disappeared by this time,

so we carried everything ourselves, in the boiling sun; we had to do it in two stages it was so

terribly hot!

Over our mound of belongings, we rigged up the boat awning, like a tent, using the

dinghy‟s oars and Vogelfrei‟s spare spars, to hold it up. It wasn‟t big enough to cover everything,

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but at least it would give us some sort of shelter. It was dark by now and we lit the hurricane

lantern. We laid one of the sails down, to make a floor, and on that put mattresses and blankets.

We didn‟t sleep too well, so much to think on! Also, enormous seven to eight inch sand-coloured

ghost crabs crawled all over us like giant spiders, and kept us awake! They were disgusting!

They made a ghastly clattering kind of noise, and they were so opaque they were almost see-

through!

Early the next morning we went down to the water‟s edge to look at poor VOGEL FREI.

Hermann decided that it was important to get to Dakar, which we reckoned was about one

hundred kilometers further south, as soon as possible to get some sort of tug boat to help tow her

off the beach. After sorting and packing our gear into sail bags, Hermann and my sister left for

Dakar; following a little valley through the sand dunes that seemed to go straight into the interior

of the desert. The holy man had „told‟ us that the road to Dakar was two kilometers inland. (It

turned out to be closer to seven!) They left with a quarter of a gallon of water, a compass, long-

sleeved shirts and sun hats. I was not to see them again for four days! And they…? Well, they

have their own story of survival!!

As they left a group of native young men came up and sat around the entrance to my

makeshift tent. Up until now we had only been visited by the women folk, now it seemed it was

the men‟s turn to come and see what the sea had thrown up on their shores! They stared, and

smiled at me, sheepishly. Then they stared at all our belongings!! The temptation was too much

for them, I suppose; we must have seemed like Santa Claus to these poor peoples! How they

could survive here at all, I marveled at; for there was no grass for their animals, only sand! I

remembered seeing an incredibly bony cow tied up to the holy man‟s hut, and thinking, what did

it eat?

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It wasn‟t long before they started to steal things when I was looking the other way. They

had shifted position. They now made a circle around the tent. It was as though they had silently

devised a system! One would dive in and grab something from one side, and as I turned around

to cry out, another would dive in from the other side and take something. It worked very well!

Our belongings were fast disappearing on all sides! I guess we had made it easy for them!! We‟d

packed all the loose things conveniently into easy to carry sail bags. Suddenly, all my clothes

were gone, save what I stood up in; and that wasn‟t much! (…the little mini skirt I wore had once

been a bathroom curtain!) And then, all the other‟s clothes went! …And then, all the wet

weather gear! …And next all the galley things went off, in yet another bag! …etc. etc.!!

Hermann had told me how to load the revolver before leaving; but he never thought that I

would have to use it! I found the gun, loaded the six chambers, and sat with it in my hand at the

entrance, tremblingly guarding our dwindling pile of possessions! But they only laughed at my

gun; until I fired at them, that is! Then they ran off like frightened rabbits; but they soon came

back. For three days they tormented me with their grinning faces and thieving hands; if I‟d have

had four pairs of eyes I still could not have guarded and saved everything, they were that clever!

It was now late afternoon, Hermann and my sister had been gone all day; I wondered if

they‟d found the road yet, and reached Dakar? I started to feel ill: dizzy and faint; then I realized

I hadn‟t eaten anything for two days…not since before we were thrown up on the beach,

yesterday, 1:15 am.! But I had plenty of water with me under the awning; all in convenient jerry

cans; for we had no inbuilt water tanks on VOGEL FREI. As I looked around I noticed that the

box beside me, where I sat guarding, was full of tinned food; though no tin opener! But I found a

small tin of ham in it that didn‟t need one. I „unzipped‟ it and ate hungrily. Idly I put the two

halves of the empty tin together and put it just outside the entrance. Immediately some children

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amongst the group grabbed it and fought for possession of it! I was amazed; it was only an empty

tin!! But it wasn‟t that they were hungry, I observed, but that it was something they had no

knowledge of! For they turned it over in their hands puzzling over it as though they had never

seen such an object before!!

The sun sank lower and all at once the group of natives got up, and disappeared; leaving

me alone. The sun set and a cooler breeze came. I looked up. There was the holy man! He stood

before me with a rolled up mat under one arm, and an orange-coloured, shallow wooden bowl in

the other. A small boy was with him. He bowed gracefully and offered me the bowl. Gratefully I

accepted it, and drank thirstily. It was a thin kind of milk, but comforting for the love with which

it was given. The man unrolled his mat, sat down cross-legged on it, and began his prayers with

his string of beads; the little boy, whom I supposed to be his grandson, beside him. He had come

to guard me…!! Tears of relief ran down my grimy face, I was not alone; and for a little while

fear left me.

All night the holy man stayed seated outside the entrance of my „tent,‟ awake and alert.

Inside, I also sat awake. Sleep was impossible; huge ghost crabs were crawling everywhere! I lit

the hurricane lantern, set it on the box beside me, and turned it up as high as it would go. For I

discovered that the light seemed to make the ghastly clattering crabs, keep their distance! I

stayed huddled beside it. At about 2:00 am, judging from the moon, I became aware of the holy

man standing before me, beckoning to me to come outside the tent! I could see that he was

anxious; wanting to warn me of some danger!! He motioned to me to bring my revolver! Once

outside the entrance he pointed up to the sand dunes behind our makeshift tent. I gasped! There,

silently zigzagging down the dunes towards me, closing in for the kill, were scores of dark

figures! He motioned to me to raise my revolver. Some inner instinct told me that the sound of a

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gun at night is extra loud and frightening, so I lifted the revolver and fired high into the air. The

effect was electrifying! The deafening noise worked! Immediately all the dark figures turned

about and went zigzagging, as fast as they could, back up the sand dunes, in case I should fire

again; but one bullet was enough! They did not return, that night; and once more I was saved

from harm!

At dawn the holy man was again standing before me with the orange-coloured bowl. He

bowed as he handed it to me and again I drank thankfully. I hadn‟t seen him leave. I must have

slept eventually, exhausted, and here he was again with the milk; only it wasn‟t so thin this time.

He watched me drink, and after I handed the bowl back to him, smiling my thanks, he left; and I

was alone again.

As the sun rose and the heat came, the natives returned, and yesterday‟s performance

began all over again! As I was turned one way, one or two would dive in, grasp a sail bag or box

of our stuff, and run off; and as I turned to shout and point the gun at them this time, others

would grab something from behind me and take off with it! Twice I ventured outside the

entrance and fired the gun at them, and then they all ran away for awhile! Some of them, I

noticed, were walking along the top of the dunes behind my tent. It looked like they had emptied

out one of the sail bags and were playing with its contents! …Our diving gear! Through all my

tension and fear, I suddenly laughed, for I saw our flippers waving in the air on their

hands!…and our snorkels like tobacco pipes the wrong way round in their mouths!

I went back inside and sat at my place beside the box and looked around. Our pile of junk

was steadily being depleted! I wondered how much they would take, before they took me? What

would they do with me? Would they just leave me here to die alone? Where was Hermann and

my sister? Why didn‟t they send help and fetch me away from this dreadful desert? What was

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going to happen to me? I didn‟t want to die!! Suddenly I jumped up and ran out. I hung on to one

of the boat‟s spars holding up the awning and lifted my agonized voice to the sky and raged at

God! I gave him a hard time! “God, how could you do this to me?” This was all, his fault!! …I

didn‟t believe in him, anyway! And at this point, the lowest ebb in my twenty-one years of life, I

think I even hated him!! He was going to let me die!! I collapsed on the sand and sobbed,

bitterly! Then, as is common with us contrary creatures, I begged and pleaded, with him whom I

didn’t believe in!!! ...that if I had to perish here, it wouldn‟t be too painful!!! …Why do we

always blame God when things go wrong? We blame him, for our mistakes, and then use his

name as a swear word!!

It wasn‟t long before the natives returned and began their stealing pattern. Once more

they were in a circle around the tent! Suddenly, like lightening, I turned around and caught one

of them taking a radio. This was our last! They‟d already taken one! My nerves were stretched to

the limit. I leaped up and in a fury pointed the gun at the man‟s chest, my finger on the trigger!

He was terrified and immediately dropped the radio and ran away! And I dropped into my place

again; and groaned inside. Would I kill someone for a stupid radio? Suddenly I hated the gun.

Let them kill me! I would not hurt anyone! I loved these people; underneath! Perhaps they were

very poor, and had nothing and needed all these possessions of ours? If I should survive; if I

should ever get out of here alive, somehow we would soon get possessions again; but these

people? I don‟t think they have shops in the Sahara!!! And even if they did, they probably didn‟t

have any money, anyway! They hadn‟t even known what tins were, I reasoned!! And so I mused

with my conscience, tossing things over with my self; there was plenty of time to! But soon the

plundering began again. They were not frightened off for long! And this time I was about to face

one of the most frightening things anybody could imagine; and yet learn the wonderful truth, that

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for both the “bad” and the “good,” all merciful acts will reap mercy somewhere along the line!

The thieving began to get, more bold. They hardly even waited for me now to turn the

other way before jumping in and taking something. I think they were finally realizing, this little

white girl was harmless! She was not a very good shot: her gun didn‟t hurt them! Then one of

biggest men, who seemed to be like a leader amongst them, suddenly stood up, and came straight

towards the entrance of my tent! Frightened I stood up, inside it. The man walked slowly in

towards me. I pointed the gun at him, level with his stomach, but he just kept on walking, very

slowly, nearer and nearer to me! Suddenly he stepped forward very quickly, grabbed the revolver

out of my hand and pushed me roughly over. I fell against a box and on to the sand. He looked at

me, lying there on the ground, and, for one never to be forgotten moment, stood with his arm

stretched out, pointing my gun at me. My heart stopped. I couldn‟t breath; for at once I

recollected, I had used four bullets; so that meant, there would be two left! He couldn‟t miss with

two bullets!! …But then, suddenly, he turned on his heels and fled!!

Once again, just like yesterday, as the interminable hours passed and the sun lowered, the

natives who had remained after their „leader‟ fled, all sort of evaporated, and I was left alone. I

wondered where they went? So I decided to follow in the direction in which I thought they‟d left.

Over the rise beyond a couple of sand dunes I saw a little group of round huts, in a messy sort of

place. They were like the holy man‟s, only his had been the only one in his patch, which was in

the opposite direction. Remembering that they now had my revolver, I quickly returned to my

tent. But I had a plan. If ever help should come, and someone came to rescue me, then I would

need the necessities of life as a traveler through this world: our passports and ship‟s papers, and a

couple of other things that we‟d be hard pressed to replace if they were lost. As fast as I could, I

stuffed these things into a small rucksack and took off down the beach to the holy man‟s hut. I

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would ask him to hide it in his hut so as the important things would be safe!

When I reached his home, there was no one around. So I bent down to enter the door

hole, then stood up inside, awestruck! There in the middle of the sand floor was a Victorian iron

bedstead! And nothing else! However did it get there? His elderly wife was inside and she

greeted me, but I hardly saw her! I just stared all around me! There was nothing but that old-

fashioned, double bed! Then all around the hut, on the top of its circular wall, I noticed a little

narrow shelf, where the roof met the wall; and there, there were a few simple things; but, oh, so

little! I turned back to the old woman, and indicated that I wanted her to hide my rucksack;

under her bed, please! The safest place! Then I turned and ran back; I had been left to guard our

junk. Guard…?! …Me? But this instruction was foremost in my mind. I had to do it, somehow!

Again at sunset the holy man and his little grandson came. Once more he offered me a

bowl of milk and then sat on his mat, and said his prayers all night, while the little child slept

beside him. Terrified, yet glad in a way, that I had lost my revolver, I had hunted through our

stuff for the rifle; I just had to do something!! And now I sat beside the tins box and the lantern,

hugging the thing to me! I knew it was useless and futile, but I reckon one does these sorts of

things in such circumstances! Oh, but I had had difficulties with that thing earlier! It was a .22

rifle, whatever that means; I knew little about it other than that you had to pull out a long brass

rod and put little bullets into it. But in my frightened state I had dropped the rod, or the rifle, in

the sand, I don‟t remember which, and the sand had gotten inside and I couldn‟t load it…and so,

it was useless! I was just about ready to cry with frustration, when suddenly I figured that it

might prove helpful just to stand at my „tent‟ door with it, and wave it around, menacing like!!

They wouldn‟t know it wasn‟t loaded; at least not for a little while!!

Again I didn‟t sleep. I sat close to the red hurricane lantern; at least that precious and

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comforting light kept the torment of the ghost crabs away! But would the natives attempt to

come back in the dark, like they did last night?! They had seen that ridiculous rifle in my hands

just as they were leaving before sundown. Would the memory of a new gun keep them at bay, I

wondered? Whether it did, or didn‟t, I don‟t know. But at least one, especially clever one of

them must have come in the dark; for an unheard of thing happened that night; one that has no

explanation. I know that it happened: I tell the truth; but how could it have happened? It was

impossible!!

I don‟t know what time it was. I didn‟t have a watch. But I knew it was late into the

night. I could see from the starlight the dim outline of the holy man seated on his mat. He was on

guard, he was praying to his God, I should try to sleep. But I was far too frightened! I was

leaning against the box, which made a little table for the hurricane lantern to sit on, with my arm

on the „table,‟ the lantern not half an arm‟s length from me. There it was shining out its

comforting light. I was watching it and its steady glow. Then it went out! No warning. No

dimming and spluttering. No sound. No movement. No hurricane lantern! For when I reached

out for it, it wasn‟t there!! For a moment I kept feeling for it, but then I stood up. In the darkness,

darker now for having been so suddenly plunged into it, I felt everywhere for it! But it was just

not, anywhere! …I never saw that red hurricane lantern again!!

After a terrible night came hope with the dawn and my comforting bowl of warm milk.

How faithful and kind this silent holy man, bowing to me as he handed me his offering each

morning and evening. He wouldn‟t stay during the daytime; I supposed he had to take his cow

somewhere, to find something for it to eat. He would smile faintly at me before he left. I think he

really believed his God would answer his prayers! But when would that be? This day got worse

and worse; before its wonderful end! The natives, bolder than ever now, were climbing all over

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our poor, stranded sloop; cutting off and taking away all the ropes they could from her rigging!

Perhaps, they needed ropes for tethering their animals? They took all the anchor ropes that had

been holding her down, to stop her from pounding in the waves. Then they started to smash

at her timbers with clubs. Wood must be scarce here. However did they find enough wood for

their cooking fires in a desert, I wondered? But for a guard, this was the last straw! I ran out

towards them shouting and brandishing my rifle! They were destroying our home right before

my eyes! They took no notice of me!! But sometime after the noon hour they all left. And that

was the last I ever saw of them!

I wondered if it had been that fleet of helicopters, with the royal looking insignias on

their sides, that had flown parallel with the beach yesterday…or was it the day before? Perhaps

those helicopter pilots had reported a strange sight on the beach! …Shipwrecked vessel! …Mad

girl on beach, jumping up and down and waving her arms, in front of some weird looking tent!

But as it turned out it wasn‟t them that reported me. Anyway, in the late afternoon of my third

day of being alone, the fourth day of being stranded in that awful place, I was rescued!

Standing at the entrance of my now dilapidated shelter, feeling more dead than alive, I

suddenly noticed a tiny dot in the distance…moving closer! A vehicle; driving along the beach at

low tide!! Help? Could it really be? Surely it must be help coming? Then as they eventually drew

to a stop, beside the boat, and people got out, I flew down the beach and literally threw myself

into their arms!! Americans! Four wonderful, blonde American guys! …from some peace

organization…and a large four wheel drive Landrover! I think the men were a bit embarrassed at

my warm welcome!! But all was well. The Muslim man‟s prayers were indeed answered: love

always prays to the right God! The LORD always was with me; whether I ranted and raved, or

believed in him, or not…!! As he showed me; much later!

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The End! P.T.O.!!

[ Of course the story went on. The Americans eventually took me to the British Embassy

where Hermann and my sister were; after taking me to the police station first! Apparently we

were in the country illegally! Having landed and unloaded without permission from Customs and

Immigration!! They couldn‟t seem to understand that we hadn‟t intended „to land!!‟ That we

actually were shipwrecked sailors! …Sometime later we went back in the Landrover, to see if we

could retrieve anything from the boat. But she was all staved in on her port side, full of sand. And

her interior had been completely stripped away, to bare ribs and frames, by the natives. So we

said our tearful goodbyes, to the wreck of the good ship „VOGEL FREI:‟ …a partner with us in

real Friendship …right to her end!

My sister flew back to Wales. And Hermann and I ended up living in the open air for

seven months; in the boatyard of a posh yacht club in Dakar; behind their bougainvillea hedge!

…While we built a new boat on the beach there; at the high tide line; under the shade of seven

coconut trees below the yacht club‟s stone parapet terrace! From where we were gazed down

upon by beautifully dressed, French people, sipping Martinis from crystal glasses, thinking we

were quite mad!! …Then unbelievably, sailing away “in that thing! …c’est formidable!”

We surprised them all! For that crazy built, little 32ft. Chinese Junk rigged schooner

actually made it to the States!! Sailing through the Cape Verde Islands…in the midst of a civil

war…and on across the Atlantic Ocean…loosing both dagger boards on the way, and nearly

losing a wildly swaying, un-stayed foremast, while hanging onto a broken and lashed tiller, with

sails, holed, like a cheese grater: a great form of „reefing‟ for Junk sails!! …Then nearly getting

shipwrecked again off the mouth of the Oronoco River, in South America! And sailing on, for

months on end, through the Caribbean Sea, swimming daily with sharks…and so on, and so

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forth…! I actually survived, five astonishing years with Hermann; and lived to tell the tale…!! ]

I took a deep breath and came „back to earth!‟ I was sitting in my room having written the

story down; feeling this was quite enough of it!! I just felt relieved that I had finally written the

shipwreck bit down! Now, after all these years, I could leave it behind me, knowing that the

actual writing of it had helped me to walk through all my buried fears, and lay them to rest at the

feet of Jesus. And, another thing, now I understood why I was always so afraid of waves…!

…Oh, those breakers of the Sahara desert!!

*

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PHOTOGRAPHS…

„Ramatou‟ (…a little red Senegalese bird) a 32ft. „Sharpie,‟ H. Chapelle design, built on

the beach in Dakar, Senegal, W. Africa, 1975.

Pictured here in Florida, USA, in 1977, on her

“last legs!”…her lovely red paint faded; her

Chinese Junk sails removed; and her deck all

loaded with gear ready to build another boat!!

The 16ft. red dinghy alongside, we built here;

it comes apart in the middle and the bow half

fits inside the aft part! For easy storing of her

on the deck the new boat! …With a little out-

board motor she was also, our „car,‟ to get to

the shops!! …We were living on the canals!

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