• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 408 0

from England to France. He was a young man in his late twenties or early thirties, and he was a strong swimmer. He made good progress until he reached the French coast and the tide changed. He fought it but couldn’t get across. He kept swimming, although he complained of feeling cold. Then he passed out in the water. It was as if the entire scene were replaying in Mickey’s mind: “The pilot and I jumped into the skiff and rowed over to ’im. ’E was facedown in the water, so I jumped in with my clothes on and rolled ’im over. ’E wasn’t breathing. Somehow, the pilot grabbed ’im by the hair and we lifted him into the skiff and then into the boat. We ’ad a doctor on board, and ’e listened to the Greek swimmer’s ’eart with a stethoscope. He couldn’t hear a ’eartbeat, so ’e tried doing a ’eart massage. That didn’t work, so the doctor cut ’is chest open with a knife and tried to massage ’is ’eart by pumping it with ’is ’and. Ah, it was terrible, love. The doctor wasn’t able to save ’im.

“Oh, don’t you worry, missus. Your daughter will be fine. She has more body fat than the Greek did, and it will help her stay warm. She’s also a much faster swimmer than ’e was. Don’t you worry,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Does this happen often—do people go into hypothermia?” my mother asked.

“Ah, yes, love, swimmers get very cold in the Channel. Sometimes they ’ave to get out because of the cold. But I’ve never been on any other swim when someone died. I hope I never do. Now let’s get back to more ’appy things,” he said. He showed us other pictures of successful swimmers and then explained what we should expect. He suggested that we stay in touch with him and urged us to call him if we had any questions at all. Then he gave us both a big hug and told me, “I’m sure you’re going to do this, love. From the moment I saw you, I knew; you are strong and able to break that record.”

The next day my mother and I rode the bus to Dover and I began swimming in Dover Harbour.

It was even more beautiful than Fahmy had described: the white cliffs were higher, more magnificent, and brighter white than I’d ever imagined. The water in the harbor was a clear, vibrant gray-blue. And when I listened to the waves, I heard Fahmy say, “You can hear the waves caressing the little pebbles. It is a very beautiful place.”

I imagined how it must have been for him the first time he stepped into the water and started swimming. I felt that he was very near me as I started my own workout, and I was excited to finally be training in Dover Harbour. Just outside the harbor walls was the English Channel, the place I had been dreaming about for what seemed like forever.

When I got into the water, I was glad I was conditioned to the cold. The water temperature was in the high fifties, and I had to swim fast to stay warm. First I headed toward the white cliffs for half a mile, then back toward the pier. As I swam, my mom walked along the beach with me, but with a lot of difficulty. The beach tilted at a sharp angle, so after the first lap I suggested that she sit and watch me from the beach.

While I was swimming, I saw another swimmer enter the water. He swam over to me and introduced himself. He said that his name was Des Renford, he was from Australia, and he was training to swim the Channel both ways. He told me he had been watching me and I looked pretty fast. He asked me my name and if I wanted to pace—to swim at the same speed as him. I was thrilled to meet him, and I told him that Reg Brickell had told me about him. Des asked if Brickell was my pilot too. He said that he had had other pilots for the crossing, but Reg Brickell was the finest. He explained that there were a few pilots who didn’t care about the swimmer and were just into Channel swimming for the money. They would take swimmers out on an attempt knowing that the weather was going to be bad; the swimmer would fail and they would be able to collect their money in a short amount of time.

We had a very good workout together. Des said that I was faster than he was. But I wasn’t by much,