Chapter 11 Shipwrecked Within two days of changing course, a second storm started.
The wind blew us far, far west.
Once again, we were completely lost at sea.
The strong winds continued well into the next day and even into the next.
Early that morning, I heard one of the men shout, Land ho!
Almost immediately, we hit a sandbar.
The ship rocked violently back and forth.
The sea washed over us.
I thought for sure we were lost.
We ran for the safety of the cabins.
We were in serious trouble.
We didn't know where we were.
We didn't know if the land was inhabited or not.
We didn't know whether or not we would survive.
The ship was stuck.
It would surely break to pieces if the wind didn't change direction immediately.
We looked at one another and prepared for the worst.
We were all wet and shivering, our spirits dampened by the events of the past few weeks.
Then there was a change in the wind.
The captain said—
We have a chance now, men.
Let's get the smaller boat into the sea and row for shore.
It's our only hope.
Of the two smaller boats on board, only one had survived the first hurricane.
It took all of our efforts just to get the boat safely into the sea and all the men on board.
The waves crashed around us as we rowed desperately for shore.
We were at the mercy of fate.
Many of the men prayed.
The only thing that mattered to any of us was getting to shore.
Whether it was rocky, whether it was safe, we just didn't care.
We rode hard because our lives depended upon it.
Our only chance was to find a bay or a mouth of a river.
Without that, we would be swept out into the storm and lost at sea.
We needed to find smooth water so we could make our way to safety.
We had rowed for almost a league and a half before a wave as tall as a mountain rolled toward us.
It took the boat quickly, and we were all thrown overboard.
The water swallowed us whole in an instant.
It was terrifying.
The waves were strong and even though I was a good swimmer, my arms were no match for the powerful water.
I couldn't even break free to gasp for a breath.
The water drove me all the way forward onto shore.
My lungs filled up with water.
I started coughing, but I knew that if I didn't crawl forward, I had no hope of surviving.
Before I could stand up, the waves grabbed me in their clutches and tossed me back into the sea.
The water swirled around me as I struggled not to drown.
Almost instantly, I felt my feet touch the bottom.
I quickly stood up.
I pushed as much air into my lungs as I possibly could before the sea caught me and dragged me back under.
About the third or fourth time the sea dragged me under my chest, hit a rock and I lost my breath completely.
This is it, I thought.
I'm going to die right here, right now.
For all of my bad luck, it seems I had one very real talent.
Survival.
The next time the current pushed me forward toward the shore, I gathered all my strength.
My feet touched the bottom.
I pushed myself up out of the water and I ran as far up the beach as I humanly could.
I ran with everything I had left in me.
Then I dropped to my knees.
All the salt water in my stomach made me sick for a minute, but I was saved.
It was enough.
I was alive.
