Richard

I enjoyed my time on the ocean alone. I slept when I wished and with whom I wished. No pressures, no deadlines, no commitments.

Not for the entire week.

My one week a year when I was plain old Rick. The guy who lived in a sailboat.

I wasn’t Richard Van de Graaf Jr, heir and Co-CEO to one of the largest shoe dynasties in the country.

I would come and go into whatever port had an open pen, take anchor, head to the nearest tavern and enjoy what the town had to offer.

Last night had been no exception. I kissed my passenger goodbye and promised I would look her up next time I was passing through. A line I had used numerous times that week.

I had taken care of my personal needs and would return to work with focus. Few understood my need to release tension in this manner. Once I did, I was an unstoppable force in the boardroom. My directions were concise, bold and innovative.

The ocean lay before me, my own watery playground. It was a route I could do in my sleep.

My guest wanted to join me to assist with the riggings and sails. It was easier to handle the sailboat with a shipmate but I did not carry any complications from my trips with me on my return voyage.

One last detour before I headed home. My sister lived on one of the islands in the inlet along the Long Island Sound. I would stop in, say hello and be on my way.

I would have one more night to anchor before the responsibilities entrusted to me would weigh me down.

One last night.

The night should not have been falling at the rate of speed that had me wondering where the time had gone. I must have been enticed by the beauty of the ocean. I checked my watch.

I had not lost track of time; it was still early afternoon. Why had the sky suddenly turned dark? This was not a good sign, not good at all.

I pulled down the sails and tied them off. If my instincts were correct, I was in for one hell of a storm.

The gales of October came early, wreaking havoc. The air became thick with briny mist, the deck awash with salty waves. Stormy clouds rolled in, blocking the last rays of light. Thunder crackled through the air, rain began to pour furiously, monstrous waves of contrasting shades slamming the boat.

The waves grew so large that the vessel was dwarfed, riding up and down the mighty swelling ocean like a child's toy. Inside the ship there was no staying still unless anchored in place. In that state I would have prayed to Poseidon himself if I thought it would do any good.

There was no mercy in that September wind, no grace in the waves, only wrath and tempest.

Every sense was maxed out, every muscle already working beyond normal capacity and still there was no end in sight. Total darkness prevailed as the dismal clouds overcast the once bright sky. The wind arose, causing waves to tower over the helpless boat, dousing the deck.

I was caught in a violent storm and was nearly tossed over the side. I did not know what part of the boat to grab on to. There was no time to think, only to act.

Every action, every reaction was a life or death decision. Mistakes could not be undone, I could only forge ahead and continue to follow through.

If I could put one more mile behind me, I could make my way to the inlet. I was sure there were sprinkles of islands, some deserted, some used during the summer tourist season.

My instruments were wet and unreadable, the night sky was un-navigational. I was unable to get my bearings. I made my way to the helm, the radio.

Mayday, Mayday, this is the Richard V, repeat Richard V, RV4874DG, RV4874DG.

I gave the coordinates of my last known location, heading east to Long Island Sound. Taking on water. No passengers. Mayday, mayday, this is Richard V, repeat Richard V, RV4874DG, RV4874DG, taking on water.

The clapping of the thunder and the cracks of the waves against the hull made it impossible to hear the response. I knew my message went through. I could hear mumbling then static.

I had to stay positive and believe my message got through.

With the sails out of commission I would have to rely on the boat's motor to try to push through the unforgiving current. The rudder was still in place and that greatly improved my odds.

The lightning was a godsend, giving me much needed illumination to assist in the navigation. I was grateful I was able to repel the mast, disabling it as a lighting rod. That was one more distraction that could be detrimental to my already uncertain fate.

They say your life flashes before your eyes in the face of death. Mine had not, giving me hope that it was not my time. I saw another flash of lightning. Different than the last, more fluent, more direct. It looked more like the beam of a lighthouse, but it was steady and straight, not bouncing in circles.

Maybe it was my time after all and I was witnessing the light at the end of the tunnel. The long illuminating light leading me to my maker to account for my judgements in life.

Like a siren beckoning sailors to the rocks, this light was beckoning me into the abyss.

Follow the light, Richard, my head was spinning, follow the light. I was so entirely focused on the light, I was not aware of the monstrous wave that overtook the boat, sending it flying through the air and splintering on the rocks.

I hit the water with a force that almost caused unconsciousness. I was a strong swimmer; I could make it to shore if only the water had not been so cold on my already over-used muscles.

I was afraid if I did not fight the current, I would float away, back into the ocean.

The only thing keeping my head above water was the lifejacket.

Did the beacon deploy upon impact?

Would they find me or would I lie in the unforgiving ocean to die of hypothermia?

I did not see my life flash before my eyes. What I saw was an angel in the beam of light. She was just beyond reach, just beyond my touch.

Everything went dark.