Part 12. “A Total Leap of Faith” “For me jumping into that raft was the most frightening part of the entire event. Not being able to jump without turning around and throwing myself backwards into where I hoped the raft was was terrifying. A total leap of faith.”

Fred not only hit the target; he didn’t go through its bottom. Reassured, we prepared to take our own leaps of faith. I’d like to report that we executed a series of graceful half-gainers, swan dives and cannonballs, but we too leaned as far off the stern as possible, waited for a wave to bring the raft to its closest point and leaped blindly backwards. The captain, as is traditional, went last. As we watched from below, George stepped over the railing, readied himself . . . and then hesitated, as if still uncertain about leaving the boat he loved. The wave passed on, and as we yelled encouragement from below, he timed the next wave and jumped.

With no points for style, but a perfect five for accuracy, we were all safely in the raft – although, we soon realized, still attached to Restive, whose stern rocked unnervingly above us. With a knife honed by his Boy Scout son, Dave cut the line and we drifted free . . . only to become immediately entangled in the drogue line. David, the unenthusiastic swimmer, took the knife and, legs held tightly by the rest of us, leaned far over the edge of the raft, and, with the élan of d’Artagnan, sliced through the line. We were adrift.