The Rapture of the Deep

The cave opening was an oblong hole a body length below the surface. We entered by taking a deep breath, diving down, and swimming through the tunnel for ten full seconds. When the passage opened up, we turned upward and surfaced in the inner chamber, a cave the size of a three-car garage. Light leaked in through a gash in the rock twenty feet below the entrance, dimly illuminating the drab limestone walls. The water level rose and fell in a cycle that started with the muffled thump of a wave smacking the cliff outside. As water rushed in below, we were launched towards the ceiling. A few feet short of impact, we slowed to a stop, then dropped away. Since the chamber was sealed, the air inside was at its maximum humidity. Whenever the water level fell, the air pressure dropped, causing a thick fog to form. With every upsurge, the pressure increased, restoring clarity.

After twenty marvelous minutes, we swam back out. I untied the Hobie, secured our gear bag to the mast, and sailed for home. The wind picked up, and the boat bounced hard across the small whitecaps. Then, when we hit the rougher waves in the channel, everything went to hell. A loud pop exploded from the port hull, and within seconds, it flooded and sank, capsizing the boat. The mast hit the water as Rainer and I were thrown overboard.

We quickly grabbed onto the floating starboard hull and looked around in vain for any boats or people in sight. The closest land was the southwestern tip of Vava'u, over a mile away to the north. To make things worse, a strong current was rushing us westward into open ocean. Even with fins on, it was doubtful that we could swim to Vava'u before being swept out to sea. The prospect of waiting for the Tongan Navy to find us while we died of thirst or were eaten by sharks in the middle of the Pacific had us thinking fast.

Rainer didn't know how to sail, so I coached him through a desperate plan. I had him pull on the mainstay while I stood on the hull and levered back on the halyard. After minutes of fighting the weight of the soaked sail, we managed to get the mast up in the air. I found that if I hung from the halyard over the water, I could counterbalance the flooded hull. If Rainer tried to board, his weight would cause another capsize so he had to hang onto the hull near my feet while I worked with the rigging. After a few minutes of careful maneuvering, I was able to get the sail to fill. I wondered if we were moving and then noticed tiny eddies behind the rudders. Thank God, but could we make it in time? Rainer hugged the hull tightly with his arms and legs as waves broke over his back. There was no way to steer the sunken hull into the wind, so returning to the harbor was impossible. As the current took us further west, I 'pointed up' into the wind to keep the last bit of land ahead of us, hindering our minuscule pace even more.

Rainer's voice came up out of the splashing turmoil at my feet. 'Koennen wir es?' 'Ja. We can do it.'
As soon as I uttered that reassuring statement, a blast of wind knocked the boat over, launching me back into the water.
'Scheisse!'
We scrambled furiously to get it back up and into position. Crucial minutes had been lost. Up and running again, I saw how far the land had moved sideways and realized that the current was a virtual torrent. As minutes passed, the tip of the island slipped away to windward as I struggled furiously to aim the boat towards it. We weren't going to make it. Real terror was building as I struggled to think of a new plan.