Dave Dawson with the Pacific Fleet

by Robert Sidney Bowen

It was dark as pitch all about him. Yet when he winked the water from his eyes a weird glow of light seemed to filter down from the stars. He saw dark objects floating about him. There were pieces of wreckage, but for the moment he could not summon the strength to swim toward them. In a dulled sort of way he knew that something was wrong, that something wasn't right. Then he knew what it was. His life jacket was gone, at least half of it. The other half was in strips and wasn't of any use. Freddy Farmer's life jacket was gone completely. In fact, he had on nothing but his shirt. Dave could tell that when a swell lifted the English youth's shoulder up out of the water.

Bit by bit Dave's brain began to click over at increased speed. Presently it gave him the sense to take a good look at Freddy. He pulled his pal closer, and as he did so held his breath in terror. But God had been kind. Freddy Farmer was not dead. He was unconscious, but he was breathing. A mighty sob of joy shook Dave's body. He clenched his teeth, and summoned every ounce of strength in his half numb body. He saw a large sized object floating by a few yards away. It looked like the top side of a crate, or perhaps it was a bunk. He struck out for it with one hand and two feet. Only a few yards away, but every foot was a mile to Dave's straining efforts. His head pounded, and all the colors of the rainbow flashed and whizzed around before his eyes.

Then finally his outstretched hand clutched hold of something. It felt like a loop of rope, and it was fastened to the floating object. He didn't bother to find out what the object was. He was quite content to cling to the looped rope for several minutes and fight for his breath and his strength. Eventually, though, he shifted his position in the water, thrust up his hand and hooked it over the side of the object. And it was then he made the joyful discovery. It was not a crate, or a bunk. The object was a ship's raft—a life raft constructed something like a rubber life raft. Airtight circular drums formed the sides, and stout planks lashed together three thick formed the bottom of the raft.

Dave laughed and cried in the same breath, and then almost spent the last of his strength in a mad effort to scramble onto the raft and haul Freddy Farmer up with him. Three times he tried it, only to lose his grip and slide back into the water, and under. He didn't try it that way a fourth time. He forced himself to spend a good ten minutes still clinging to the looped rope. Then, when renewed strength began to seep slowly through his body, he worked Freddy Farmer's unconscious body close to the raft, got one of the English youth's arms flung up over the side, and then the other. Then inch by inch he worked the dead weight up until Freddy went tumbling over and down onto the floor of the raft.

It required another rest period of some ten minutes for Dave to dig up some more strength. Then, grabbing hold with both of his hands, he worked his body upward, muscles straining, strength ebbing away like a punctured balloon spilling air, and all the firecrackers in the world going off in his brain. It took years, it seemed, but he finally made it. He got all the way in and fell sprawling down on top of Freddy Farmer. He tried to push himself up and crawl off his pal, but that was the moment when all the glittering stars in the heavens fell down and hit him on top of the head.

His next sensation was that his whole body was on fire. He opened his eyes, but it was like looking straight in through the opened door of a blast furnace going full force. He closed his eyes, groaned, and tried to move. It was then that water hit him smack in the face, and hands took hold of him.

"Dave! Speak to me, Dave! It's Freddy. Dave! Please speak! Can you hear me? Steady, lad, steady! Relax and let me hold you. Praise be to Allah! I've been terrified for hours that you were a goner!"

With a tremendous effort Dave forced his eyes open. The glare of the blast furnace was gone, but he could still feel the heat. For a few seconds he didn't try to think. He didn't try to do anything except relax, and let somebody hold him up, and keep the glare of that blast furnace out of his eyes. He knew it must be Freddy Farmer. He recognized the voice, and the voice had said so. Good old Freddy. Always there at the right time. Never failed. One in a million. The very best. The tops.

"Hold it, Dave!" Freddy's voice cried in his ears again. "Don't let go, pal. Hold it. Buck up. Come on, now. There's a lad for you. Cheeri-o, Dave!"

He found that his eyes were opened again, and that Freddy Farmer's grinning face was but a foot from his own. He stared at it, grinned himself, and suddenly strength and vitality began coursing through his veins. He took his eyes off Freddy's face, looked about him, and gulped. As far as he could see in any direction was nothing but a limitless expanse of sky blue water—sky blue water filmed over with golden light from the blazing sun hanging high in the heavens. He and Freddy Farmer were alone in the life raft, completely alone. There wasn't a drop of water, nor a package of food, or anything. The raft was bare of all things that help to sustain life. Startling realization brought sudden and violent hunger to his stomach, and a craving thirst to his lips. He looked back to meet Freddy's eyes, and forced another grin to his lips.