Am I going to drown?

We love it here at the Smuggler's Inn, in Madang. It’s a great place and we’re becoming very friendly with the two barmaids at the Smuggler's Motel. One day to escape the heat, we decide to go swimming with the two girls. They want to go to the town’s swimming pool, but I suggest we go for a swim right here in the lagoon. Phil says, No way, it’s too rough. The girls agree but I say, come on, it looks great. And climb down the rocks into the water. It is great. I have a mask and snorkel with me and look down into the water. The corals are fabulous and the coloured fish look beautiful up close. The other three are up on the verandah and don’t join me.

Beautiful corals ad fish everywhere

I am enjoying myself in the water and when I look up again, I am about 50 metres from the shore. I think it’s time to swim back to the motel but I am not moving at all. In fact I am being swept out further and further. I start to panic and swim as hard as I can towards the shore but no success. I am still the same distance and am not moving forward at all. I try harder and am still not moving. What’s happening? Why am I not moving?

By now, there is a small gathering of people on the verandah in the distance. I can see John Barlow talking to his native boys I guess, urging them to come to my rescue, but I can see them shaking their heads.

I am doomed. I’ve come half way around the world. I’m twenty-five years old, and I’m going to drown off the coast of Madang. This is terrible. I’m not ready to depart this world, I don’t want to die.

I remember having read somewhere that if you’re in situations like this, not to panic and swim under the waves to stop being pulled out to sea.

I tread water for a while to calm down and relax. It works. I try again, swimming towards the shore and every time a wave comes back I dive under it. When a wave comes behind me I really swim hard. The method works. I am getting closer to shore. There are a couple of policemen now on the verandah, including a white Officer. Everyone is urging me on.

I keep on doing the same and am now only about twenty metres from the rocks. The sea is still very rough, and as I am only a few metres off the rocks, a very strong wave smashes me against the rocks.

The policemen drag me up the rocks; I am covered in blood from being smashed against the rocks. The white police inspector abuses me for being so foolish as to go out into the bay in such rough conditions. He says ‘Who the hell do you think you are, Tarzan, or something’. I don’t mind being abused I have never been so glad to be abused by coppers. All to try to impress a girl. Phil just shakes his head.

Next day, we finally hear from the wharf, our bearings have come back from a round trip to Singapore. They forgot to unload them on the way from Australia. I hope the bearings enjoyed the trip. Good-bye holidays, we’re finally back at work.