Praying
As the weeks passed, however, the kids flourished. Helping out with nautical tasks —— docking the boat, keeping the log, manning the radios —— they developed a growing sense of teamwork. Amelia became an expert baker, Jack a budding marine biologist, eager to identify every creature he saw. Ben read more books than he'd ever thought possible. Their solitude was eased by encounters with peers on other boats, and by occasional visits from relatives and old friends.
And from Bermuda onward, the adventures came thick and fast. The Silverwoods snorkeled each morning before breakfast, amid bright blizzards of tropical fish. At night, John lay on the deck with the kids and showed them the constellations. The family took scuba-diving lessons in St. Thomas. They sailed through the Panama Canal. In Ecuador, they explored Inca ruins and trekked through Andean villages where guinea pigs were a staple food. In the Galápagos, they frolicked with giant tortoises and rode horseback up a volcano.
Eventually, they braved the 3,000-mile passage to the Marquesas and then on to the rest of French Polynesia. There, the generator broke, and they lingered in the islands while awaiting repairs. Ben surfed Tahiti's legendary waves, Amelia took in native dance performances, and in the Tuamotus Jack swam with a wild octopus on his back. In December 2004, the family flew to New Zealand, where they spent three weeks exploring the rain forests and fjords.
Shortly after New Year's, they docked the Emerald Jane in Raiatea and headed back to San Diego to wait out cyclone season. Everyone was thrilled to return to the luxuries they had left behind, but the novelty soon paled. The following June, when school was out, they took up where they had left off. The plan was to head for Tonga, Fiji, and finally Australia； in August, they would put the boat up for sale and return home.
The catamaran left Raiatea at 3 p.m. on Friday, June 24. Around 5 p.m. the next day, one of the pins attaching the boom to the mast came loose. John furled the mainsail, and spent an hour and a half trying to solve the problem. As darkness fell, he decided to finish in the morning. He switched on the starboard engine to supplement the Genoa sail at the bow.
About 200 miles west of Raiatea lies a tiny atoll called Manuae, which trails a reef like a comet's tail. John had planned to round it by daylight, but now that was impossible. Stopping was not an option； the ocean in these parts is two miles deep, offering no anchorage. Charts of the area are not always reliable, but he had studied the route carefully. He set the autopilot on a course that allowed seven miles of clearance, then headed to the stateroom to talk to Jean, leaving the younger kids in front of the TV and Ben on watch in the cockpit.
Jean was at the stern with the children when the mast toppled onto her husband. She screamed, then stood frozen with terror on the pitching deck. The mast had knocked Ben down as well, leaving a gash on his crew-cut head. Now he stood over his father. “I'm here, Dad,” he said, his eyes betraying everything that his calm voice concealed.
“Bring me some of that 3/8-inch utility line,” John gasped, and Ben ran to grab it from a cabinet. John wrapped a strand of rope about his knee, twisting the ends to form a crude tourniquet. The foot-wide mast lay across his mangled lower leg, grinding into it with every movement of the boat. The craft had pivoted since hitting the reef, so the foredeck took the brunt of the waves. Each time a breaker crashed over him, he lost his grip —— and more blood.
Jean scrambled to his side and knelt there, stroking his face. “It's going to be all right,” she repeated softly, as if hoping to hypnotize them both into believing it. Then she gathered herself. The life raft, she knew, could be zipped closed, and with chunks of debris flying everywhere, it seemed the safest place for Amelia, Jack and Camille. She herded them into it, along with bags of food and jugs of water. She also tossed in Speedy, a small tortoise they had adopted in the Caribbean nearly two years earlier. But soon the hulls began to wobble loose, squeezing the raft between them. Jean hustled the children out again, just before the supplies and Speedy went tumbling overboard.
Amelia and the younger kids huddled on the rearmost tip of the port hull, as Jack cried over the loss of his pet. Jean and Ben shuttled between them and John, who lay shivering and moaning as his body went into shock. They tried repeatedly to lift the mast, but it wouldn't budge. Despite his injuries and his excruciating pain, John somehow remained conscious. He alternated between acceptance and denial of his impending death, and anguished over the fate of his family. At times, a voice in his head excoriated him： They're doomed, and it's your fault. He confessed his sins to God and prayed aloud that his loved ones be spared.
As the weeks passed, however, the kids flourished. Helping out with nautical tasks —— docking the boat, keeping the log, manning the radios —— they developed a growing sense of teamwork. Amelia became an expert baker, Jack a budding marine biologist, eager to identify every creature he saw. Ben read more books than he'd ever thought possible. Their solitude was eased by encounters with peers on other boats, and by occasional visits from relatives and old friends.
And from Bermuda onward, the adventures came thick and fast. The Silverwoods snorkeled each morning before breakfast, amid bright blizzards of tropical fish. At night, John lay on the deck with the kids and showed them the constellations. The family took scuba-diving lessons in St. Thomas. They sailed through the Panama Canal. In Ecuador, they explored Inca ruins and trekked through Andean villages where guinea pigs were a staple food. In the Galápagos, they frolicked with giant tortoises and rode horseback up a volcano.
Eventually, they braved the 3,000-mile passage to the Marquesas and then on to the rest of French Polynesia. There, the generator broke, and they lingered in the islands while awaiting repairs. Ben surfed Tahiti's legendary waves, Amelia took in native dance performances, and in the Tuamotus Jack swam with a wild octopus on his back. In December 2004, the family flew to New Zealand, where they spent three weeks exploring the rain forests and fjords.
Shortly after New Year's, they docked the Emerald Jane in Raiatea and headed back to San Diego to wait out cyclone season. Everyone was thrilled to return to the luxuries they had left behind, but the novelty soon paled. The following June, when school was out, they took up where they had left off. The plan was to head for Tonga, Fiji, and finally Australia； in August, they would put the boat up for sale and return home.
The catamaran left Raiatea at 3 p.m. on Friday, June 24. Around 5 p.m. the next day, one of the pins attaching the boom to the mast came loose. John furled the mainsail, and spent an hour and a half trying to solve the problem. As darkness fell, he decided to finish in the morning. He switched on the starboard engine to supplement the Genoa sail at the bow.
About 200 miles west of Raiatea lies a tiny atoll called Manuae, which trails a reef like a comet's tail. John had planned to round it by daylight, but now that was impossible. Stopping was not an option； the ocean in these parts is two miles deep, offering no anchorage. Charts of the area are not always reliable, but he had studied the route carefully. He set the autopilot on a course that allowed seven miles of clearance, then headed to the stateroom to talk to Jean, leaving the younger kids in front of the TV and Ben on watch in the cockpit.
Jean was at the stern with the children when the mast toppled onto her husband. She screamed, then stood frozen with terror on the pitching deck. The mast had knocked Ben down as well, leaving a gash on his crew-cut head. Now he stood over his father. “I'm here, Dad,” he said, his eyes betraying everything that his calm voice concealed.
“Bring me some of that 3/8-inch utility line,” John gasped, and Ben ran to grab it from a cabinet. John wrapped a strand of rope about his knee, twisting the ends to form a crude tourniquet. The foot-wide mast lay across his mangled lower leg, grinding into it with every movement of the boat. The craft had pivoted since hitting the reef, so the foredeck took the brunt of the waves. Each time a breaker crashed over him, he lost his grip —— and more blood.
Jean scrambled to his side and knelt there, stroking his face. “It's going to be all right,” she repeated softly, as if hoping to hypnotize them both into believing it. Then she gathered herself. The life raft, she knew, could be zipped closed, and with chunks of debris flying everywhere, it seemed the safest place for Amelia, Jack and Camille. She herded them into it, along with bags of food and jugs of water. She also tossed in Speedy, a small tortoise they had adopted in the Caribbean nearly two years earlier. But soon the hulls began to wobble loose, squeezing the raft between them. Jean hustled the children out again, just before the supplies and Speedy went tumbling overboard.
Amelia and the younger kids huddled on the rearmost tip of the port hull, as Jack cried over the loss of his pet. Jean and Ben shuttled between them and John, who lay shivering and moaning as his body went into shock. They tried repeatedly to lift the mast, but it wouldn't budge. Despite his injuries and his excruciating pain, John somehow remained conscious. He alternated between acceptance and denial of his impending death, and anguished over the fate of his family. At times, a voice in his head excoriated him： They're doomed, and it's your fault. He confessed his sins to God and prayed aloud that his loved ones be spared.