Julie - Fear

Cassie had always been afraid of water.  There was no defining moment in her past to support this irrational fear, she just didn’t like the stuff.  Her weekly swimming lessons at primary school had been unpleasant rather than traumatic - she had stood shivering in her yellow arm bands, refusing to lie back in the water, despite the cajoling of the teacher and the fact that, even at the age of eight, the water only came up to her thighs.  There had been few family trips to the beach, her mother not liking sand, her father never being around to take them.  Cassie had managed, at high school, to master a comical attempt at the doggy paddle, with her head held high, resolutely refusing to put her face in the water and disliking going far out of her depth. 

It had, therefore, been a great leap for her to agree to go sailing on her honeymoon, with the promise of being surrounded by water in a small yacht and the opportunity to experience the dubious delights of snorkelling.  Joe had been a good teacher, the flippers (or fins, as she had been told she should correctly call them) made her swimming stronger, and she had now progressed to a type of breast stroke with her arms.  The mask they had bought together the previous month was a tight fit and didn’t let any water in, and after a couple of practises at the local swimming pool, late in the evening when no-one else had been there, she felt mildly confident that she would manage well enough with the snorkel.

The trip to see the wreck was her first attempt in the sea.  Joe tied the dinghy to the blue mooring buoy and, after helping Cassie with her fins, and checking the angle of her snorkel, sat at the edge of the dinghy and leant over backwards until his feet went over his head and he plunged into the clear, blue water.  Cassie peered dubiously over the side as he re-emerged, his dark hair plastered to his head.  He blew a column of water from his snorkel and held out his hand.

‘I’m not getting in like that,’ Cassie declared firmly, and she stood up, reversing awkwardly over the side of the dinghy - the fins making the whole event a graceless affair - and lowering herself into the warm water.  She held onto the side of the dinghy while she assessed the waves which were lapping around her.

‘It’s a bit choppy, isn’t it?’

Joe removed his snorkel and smiled in a reassuring way. ‘You’ll be fine.  Once you’re lying in the water, you’ll go up and down with the waves.  Here, let me help you with your snorkel.’

After a few adjustments, Cassie put her head into the water and raised her legs behind her, as instructed, and holding hands, the pair drifted easily in the current towards the place where a small, white diving boat had moored, over to their right.  Grey, jagged rocks rose out of the water to their left and continued in a line beneath them, hidden under the surface, the cause of the shipwreck.  As Cassie drifted, she could see two divers below them with their yellow scuba tanks on, attached to the dive boat by lines, exploring the wreck. Joe tapped her on the shoulder and pointed down, to where a round green and yellow fish the size of a saucer was moving in and out of a large patch of spiky coral, chasing smaller fish which were purple, with bright pink dots.  With her head in the water, Cassie could hear nothing but her own breathing, in and out of her mouth, her mask covering her eyes and nose.  She raised her head a couple of times, looking back at the dinghy, which seemed far away, and drifted on.  The wreck wasn’t particularly impressive, just twisted, rusty metal, but the fish which were swimming around it were beautiful.  It was like swimming in an aquarium, the water was so clear, the fish so bright.  They swam through a shoal of hundreds of small, silver fish, which turned, in unison, and darted away.  Far below, lying on a sandy patch beside the rocks, Cassie could see the brown form of a nurse shark, harmless, but impressive all the same.

Suddenly, she felt a push from Joe.  She lifted her head and he pointed behind her, in the direction of their dinghy.  He wanted them to head back. Cassie turned around and, putting her head down, began to kick with her legs.  After a few kicks, she looked up, to check on her progress.  They had passed the rocks, which were now on their right and, heading towards open water, were being carried along by a strong current.  The dinghy seemed further away.  ‘Swim,’ Joe urged, over the sound of the waves, ‘Swim.  Use your arms.’

Cassie put her head down and tried again, this time pulling her arms through the water whilst kicking her legs and making an effort to push to the back of her mind the knowledge that, unlike Joe, she had never been a strong swimmer.  She tried hard, kicking her legs - the fins propelling her along - and pulling purposefully with her arms.  After a while, she looked up again and was dismayed to find that she was still in the same place.  The two divers had returned to their boat and were removing their wet suits.  The waves were larger now.  Cassie held herself vertical in the water and removed her snorkel from her mouth.

‘I can’t do it, Joe, I’m getting tired.’

‘You’ll be OK, just try and swim.  Put your legs out behind you and swim.’  He looked nervously behind them at the vast expanse of open water.

Cassie bit onto her mouthpiece again and put her head in the water.  The waves were lapping higher and, as she took a deep breath through her mouth, she tasted salt water which had splashed down her snorkel.  Trying not to think about how deep the water was underneath her, she tried again, pulling through the sea with her arms and kicking her legs.  Joe grabbed her elbow and tried to steer her away from the jagged rocks.  She felt her breathing becoming quicker and quicker, louder and louder, a sense of desperation was taking over and she lifted her head again.  The white dinghy bobbed in the distance, no closer at all. 

She struggled with her mouthpiece and shouted desperately to Joe, ‘I need help, I can’t do it.’

‘Head for the dive boat,’ Joe shouted, over the waves, pulling her towards him, away from the rocks.  Cassie could see the boat was preparing to leave.  One of the divers was packing the scuba tanks away, another had lifted the steps to tie up.  When they left, she and Joe would be alone in the water, three hundred yards away from their dinghy, with her becoming more tired and increasingly unable to get back.  Although Joe was a confident swimmer, she knew he had no experience of life-saving.  She put her head in the water again, she could hear her breathing, quick and shallow, tears were beginning to form as panic took hold.  She kicked her legs unconvincingly and tried to pull her arms through the water, lifted up and down by the relentless waves.  She breathed in a whole mouthful of salt water and, coughing and spluttering, lifted her head again. 

Joe was yelling and waving his arm towards the dive boat.  She looked round, trying to make sense of what he was shouting.

‘Throw us a line.  My wife can’t swim!’

Cassie bobbed in the water, petrified, her snorkel forgotten, hanging uselessly, as the waves washed over her.  She was taking great gasps of air and sea water now, her lungs aching as she sank below the surface, then thrashing furiously, to emerge and breathe again.  The diver seemed to be moving in slow motion.  The orange line, with a float on the end, landed a foot to her right.  Please don’t let me miss it she thought, as she reached out towards it, going under the surface again.  She kicked her feet frantically and shot out of the water, taking a large gasp of air.  Her arm flailed uselessly in the water before she was able to grab the rope in her right hand, gripping it tightly.  The diver began to drag her in.  She was coughing and spluttering, the taste of the salt water making her feel sick, her lungs feeling raw and fit to burst, wanting to scream but not having the energy.

Once safely on the boat Cassie lay down, exhausted.  She was shaking uncontrollably, unable to undo her fins, barely able to move.  The diver who had rescued her seemed angry.  His words floated in and out of her consciousness as he directed his rant towards Joe.

‘That’s why we use safety lines,’…  ‘Strong currents,’… ‘Irresponsible’…     .

In the fog that surrounded her, trying to make sense of it all, she was certain of only one thing: drowning would be a horrible way to die.