Background: It was July 14, 1981 which just happened to be my 40th birthday.  Yvonne, Dean and I were  on the Shark XII, a fifty foot bareboat charter sailboat with  about twelve other SCUBA divers captained by Leon Dufresne. The trip was a planned two weeker out of Government Cut, Miami with some of the divers staying for the whole time and some flying back to the U.S. from Andros while others flew into Andros for the second week. We had sailed out of Miami on July 12 after fighting generator problems all the previous night.  Had some great dives at the Gingerbread Grounds where we had a good Mako shark experience after spending the night at Great Issac Light where we climbed the light and took some of the old lenses.  The night of the 13th we were sailing across the flats to get to Chub Cay and were using a LORAN receiver for the first time to ensure we didn't get out of the channel which is narrow and no more than ten feet deep. Alas, we didn't know that the LORAN accuracy was degraded in the Bahamas and we ended up aground miles from anywhere.  We were aground for at least two tide changes and were beginning to fear that we'd be there forever.  We attempted digging around the hull, warping the anchor, and even used the air compressor to try to blow away the substrate from around the boat. all to no avail.  Finally after about twelve hours of sitting on a canted boat the tide leveled us out and barely floated us.  We sent Dean up to the mast head and I stood at the bow with a lead line checking the depth. Leon steered per Dean's guess of where lay the deepest water. After going aground a few more times we finally got to deep water. The next morning at 0400 I penned this poem.

The Poem

As we sailed the Ocean boundless
Any fears would be quite groundless.
The seas were calm and skies were clear
A gentle rocking eased all fears.

But things can change for those who sail
As this epic shall soon regale.
For the best of parties can turn sour
And it seemed that now became OUR hour.

We sailed on and on into the night
Without landfall or view of a light.
Until at four we changed our course
And things became a whole lot worse.

We knew we were near our goal
When the lookout said, "Bless my soul"
"I see a light out in that place
Soon we'll finish our little race"

So we headed toward the blinking
Of our fate we had no inkling.
Like sheep heading to their kill
Soon we'd swallow our bitter pill.

The light that pulled us toward its glow
Really meant don't come, but go.
For what we saw was blinking red
Enter here and end up dead.

The Shark continued in its folly
And moods became much less jolly.
Can there be a more horrible sound
Than when a ship runs aground?

We felt a shake and heard a grinding
Our progress stopped, we were binding
Upon the sand and in the shallow
That was the pill we had to swallow.

The boat was caught by outgoing tide
So we had some time with which to abide.
Some would swim and some would worry,
The useless thing would be to hurry.

The tide comes in and tide goes out
More in a whisper than a shout.
As the day was getting late
All we could do was wait, wait, wait.

The sun was hot and often glaring
We fought to keep tempers from flaring.
Caught upon a sandy slope
We were mad and without hope.

Ever so slowly the tide came in
We wondered have we paid for our sins?
Will the Master in the sky
Release our bonds so we can fly.

Finally after many hours
Of digging with all our power
The sea lifted us off the sand
So we could sail to the good land.

Well even that was not so easy
And as I tell this I feel queasy.
Because as we looked all around
What we saw was mostly ground.

My son high up on the mast
Said, "I see a way at last."
So we followed Dean's direction
And came upon our ressurection.

It happened on Steve's birthday
A day to remember in many ways.
Now we'll do some serious driving
So we can catch up on our diving.

Steve Coester 1981

That wasn't the end of our adventures that trip. At Green Cay we noticed about thirty people waving to us from the shore of this uninhabited island. They were Hatian refugees who had been dropped off by a person smuggler.  We felt we had to help them although it was impossible to take thirty of them on board, and we were leary of them.  We rowed the dingy in and gave them water and food. At Congo Town, Andros we mentioned them to the head man and requested he notify Nassau so they could be rescued. He replied, "No mon, if we call Nassau they'll just come out and machine gun them."  True or not I'll never forget that. I have no idea what happened to those poor folks. At the end of our week we flew back and the pilot let Dean, who had just soloed, fly us back to Merrit Island.

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