The scariest part of liferaft survival

I promised to reveal the scariest part of trying to survive when Beth and I lost the yacht we were delivering from Rio to Cape Town. Perhaps leaving the big superyacht, climbing from the sinking vessel into a tiny liferaft, amounted to the most worrying moment.

The yacht was like a small ship in many ways. When changing sails to suit altering weather conditions, I could run between the cockpit and the foredeck.

The galley was roomy, bigger than many kitchens at home, and wonderfully equipped for cooking.

Paddling pool

What a difference to exchange that comfortable life for a rubber container the size of a child's paddling pool, and to endure heavy weather that threw our new home about, and shook it - and us - like a rattle.

One early morning, enduring a liferaft's version of 'life', a tremendous blow struck me from below. It felt as if a tree trunk had been fired at us.

I had only ever been in a liferaft before in professional yachtmaster training. But I guessed the cause immediately.

Before long, I saw the first of the growing swarm of tiger sharks that began to gather around the raft.

There was that first fellow - about seven or eight feet long. Soon the one became several and before many days, a great crowd of them.

I had the impression often, with the mob packed so tightly packed round the raft, that we could have walked on them as if they were stepping stones.

Of course, a dare-devil trying that wouldn't have stepped far. I recognised the breed instantly from scuba diving and I knew only too well that they were certainly not present merely to keep us company.

Pièce de résistance

They looked hungry and they seemed very keen to add us to their menu, probably as the pièce de résistance. How grateful we could feel that sharks aren't exactly bright.

Their highly desired food was no more than a bite away, and between them they had scores and scores of bites to spare.

As I tell in my forthcoming story, Drifting to Hell, they rubbed against the raft, they torpedoed it from below, but thankfully they never thought to give it a nip. One small snap would have punctured the tubes and within moments, they would have enjoyed what they waited for as they ripped us apart.

Continues on the blogs for my sailing adventure story, Sailing to Purgatory, at SailingToPurgatory.com