A Call For Help

carnival star princess

The sun beat violently down on the deck of the boat and his body swayed wearily with the ebbing waves. Two men sat still in the shade of the cabin and he peered out at the blue water rolling incessantly toward the horizon.

“Water,” he said. “Nothing but water.”

He dipped his shirt into the ocean and draped it over his shoulders. The water dripped down his burnt skin and a sensation of soothing pain shot through his body. He closed his eyes. His skin cracked. A bird sounded overhead and the boat drifted further out to sea.

There was a loud thump at the far end of the boat and when he opened his eyes he noticed a blurry figure sprawled out over the deck. One of the men had fallen. There was a white foam covering his lips and his open eyes gazed vacantly out to sea.

He knelt down over the body. He took the wet cloth that hung around his neck and placed it over the man’s forehead.

“They’ll come,” he said. “Someone will come.”

The sun was hot and he sat down against the splintery side of the small cabin and listened to the waves splash against the hull of the boat. It had been 17 days since they had seen land. 17 days since they had seen another ship. The water stretched out in all directions toward the insurmountable horizon and the three men waited, unsure if death or rescue would find them first.

He rose to his feet and leaned over the rail. The spray of the ocean peppered his skin and he looked desperately out toward the water’s edge.

“There’s a boat,” he mumbled. “A boat!”

The two men on the ground tried to stand but the weight of the heat kept them pinned to the deck.

“It’s a boat,” he said. “Do you see it? A boat.”

He rubbed his blurry eyes and stared out at the small white dot that cracked the constant line of the horizon.

“Help,” he yelled, but his dry throat muffled the words into a near silent cough. He took the wet shirt from his friend’s forehead and waved it in the hair.

“Help,” he called out silently. “Help.”

One of the other men pulled himself up to the railing. His weary eyes peered out over the waves and he shook his head.

“Adrian,” he said. “Adrian. It’s a delusion.”

He waved the shirt in the air and watched as the white dot on the horizon slowly slipped beneath the water’s edge.

“Help,” he cried, and fell back down to the deck of the boat.

The water stretched on forever and the three men sat in the sun and waited, certain that death would find them first.


Two men died earlier this month on a small fishing boat that was lost at sea for 28 days. But the tragedy may have been avoidable. Passengers aboard the Carnival Star Princess Cruise Ship say that they spotted the drifting fishing boat in the Atlantic Ocean, but the ship refused to stop for help. – Inquisitr

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