Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [71]
Maneuvering the rubber inflatable was much easier than trying to land the Elicura, and within minutes two frogmen had picked us up and ferried us out to the ship. The ship towered at least thirty feet above us, and as we came alongside under full power, the rubber inflatable began bouncing and rebounding wildly off the port side of the ship. Waves were washing over the pontoons into the rubber inflatable, and the wind was blowing sheets of water onto us.
The only way to get on board was to climb onto a slippery pontoon, balance on it until the moment just before the boat and ship collided, then leap up to grab a ladder. It was risky. Missing the handhold would result in being squashed between the two boats or being sucked into the ship’s engines.
John went ahead of me. The boats smashed together while his legs were sandwiched in between and he yelled in pain, nearly losing his grip on the ladder. Somehow he managed to hold on and pull himself up. Once on board, he leaned over and called me to follow.
It was scary standing on the pontoon with my arms extended for balance. Just a moment before I leaped, a wave caught the inflatable and it dropped out from under me. Leaning back, I tumbled into the boat, got up quickly while I had any nerve left, and leaped toward the ladder. It was narrow, slippery, and steep, and it bounced wildly in the waves. The climb was straight up. As the Elicura rocked and swayed, I was afraid to let go of each ladder rung so I could reach for the next. My hand missed once, and I froze there in midair, not wanting to go any farther, but knowing I had to. And the frogmen were waiting for me so they could climb on board.
“Don’t look down,” John warned.
Of course I did, and the sight of the boats colliding below me scared me even more. This was not what I expected at all. It wasn’t supposed to be this difficult to get to a swim. If it was as hairy as this, what was the swim going to be like? These are not helpful thoughts, I told myself. Focus on what you need to do now. Look at the rung, extend your arm, hold on to it, step onto the next rung, and don’t let your foot slip.
At the top, John and Captain Furniss grabbed me under each arm and hoisted me on board. My heart was racing, and I was drenched.
We followed Captain Furniss to the ship’s bridge. The slight but strong-looking man welcomed us on board and had us stand by the heater, near a table covered by a nautical chart of the Strait of Magellan.
“We’ll take a look at that in a moment,” he said. “First, I have to check on my men and make sure they’ve managed to pull the rubber inflatable on board. Here, let me introduce you to Dr. Fernandez, the ship’s doctor. He’s here to ensure your safety during the swim, Lynne, and this is Commander Charlie—” I never did catch the commander’s last name.
Dr. Fernandez greeted me with the customary kiss on each cheek, making my face glow. Maybe it was the intensity of the swim, or being so far from home, or maybe it was simply because of Dr. Fernandez. From the moment I met him, I really liked him. Dr. Fernandez was good-hearted and caring, and he radiated enthusiasm. He was also very attractive—tall and trim, with sandy blond hair and eyes as blue as the sea. I quickly gravitated toward him.
When Captain Furniss returned, we gathered around the chart. He had been briefed on what we wanted to achieve. And he had been given orders to work with us, so from the onset we began to be a team, with John conveying our thoughts about how we wanted to coordinate the swim. I freely asked questions of the captain, Dr. Fernandez, and the commander. It was so exciting being on the ship’s bridge, looking out across the whitecapped strait, feeling the ship moving beneath my feet, and knowing that we were working with one of the top navies in the world.
During the past few weeks John and