Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [60]
Sandy Blewett jumped into the water and swam over to me. “Come on, let’s see some of that Cox courage,” she said, which got me moving again. She swam for half an hour with me, then had to climb out. She had had a back injury before this attempt, and she was in pain. I knew she was the one who had courage. For a while after she got out, I continued, but I felt discouraged.
Captain Brown, the pilot for the Aritaka, a cross-channel passenger ferry, changed the course of his ship and raced over to us. It was against the rules of his company, but in his mind I was a ship in distress, and he was determined to help. He pulled the ship alongside us and raised the American flag, while hundreds of passengers climbed out on deck. They waved and cheered and stayed beside us for ten or twenty minutes.
When they left, Keith Hancox shouted, “I spoke with Captain Brown on the radio. He told me that all of New Zealand is following your progress. All the boats that pass between the islands and all the planes that fly overhead have been watching you all day long.” His voice was filled with both excitement and fatigue.
I was overwhelmed. It didn’t matter to them that I wasn’t from their country.
The waves in Cook Strait were up to seven feet high now. I could just make out the outline of the South Island. How am I ever going to do this? I wondered. Keep going. Just keep going, and for a while I did, but my attitude was quickly turning for the worse.
Keith Hancox waved me over to the boat and suggested that I stop and drink some apple juice. He told me, “All day long, local yachtsmen and fishermen have been radioing us, and giving us updates on the water condition out ahead. Air New Zealand has been following our progress too; they’ve been radioing our boats, giving us weather updates.” Then he pointed. “Look up there in the sky.”
An Air New Zealand jet was circling overhead, and it dipped its wing to salute us.
Hancox turned to pick up the radio, listened, then turned to me and said excitedly, “The prime minister of New Zealand, Prime Minister Rowling, just called. He said to tell you, ‘We believe you can cross the mighty Cook Strait. You can do it. You have the entire nation of New Zealand behind you.’”
I looked at the ocean. The waves were now eight feet high, too big to take in all at once; I had to tip my head back to see an entire wave. I prayed, “Please, God, I can’t do this without your help. I need the waves to go down. I need you to make something happen. I can’t do this.” I put my head down and started swimming again. The winds were shifting all around, blasting us from one direction, then the other, and they had increased to thirty-five knots. When I reached the crest of a wave I looked across the sea, and there was the South Island. It was getting larger, sharper.
I put my head down. My arms felt like they were on fire. Everything ached. I buried my head, hoping to get lower in the water so I wouldn’t become airborne, so I could let the waves wash over me, so I could go through the heart of them and continue to move forward.
“Robbie, what was that?” I shouted to a lifeguard on the paddle-board.
A large, dark streak had brushed beneath me, and it had moved quickly.
Robbie peered down into the water. “It’s probably the reflection of the boat,” he said, but he continued looking down.
“There it is!” I shouted with my head up, feeling myself swimming rapidly on the upper inches of the water.
Robbie’s eyes got as large as saucers, and he shouted to the crew, “Check below!”
Before they could say or do anything, five large black forms broke the water’s surface.
“They’re dolphins,” Cataldo shouted gleefully, making a dolphin move with his hand.
Two black-and-white dolphins