It was a typical Florida balmy summer afternoon with perfect balmy weather as the 18 ft outboard eased to a stop and the anchor secured itself in 13 fathoms of the blue‑green Gulf of Mexico. They had been trying different dive spots for hours but had hadn’t had much luck finding the perfect sea floor he sought with the bottom sounder.
The sun was sliding toward the horizon, but the ‘Captain’ wanted to try one more spot before beginning the 20 mile trip back to the boat launch in Clearwater. Two of the three boaters had been diving all afternoon, but when you have a tank of air left, and the weather and water are cooperating, just one more adventure on the bottom is tempting ‑ especially if the way the anchor “clunked” and suddenly grabbed, told them that they were in fact over a ‘hard bottom’ – perhaps coral.
The third member of the party was from
“up North” and had never had this kind of ocean experience, moreover having scuba dived or seen real live coral. Joe, the boat’s captain was an experienced diver, and thought little of going down by himself – his first unwise decision.
He was just going to make a spot dive and check out the bottom. A second casual decision, and mistake, was not to don his buoyancy compensator – known as a BC. Too much hassle for the short dive, he thought. It was a bad decision which would later nearly cost him his life. There were several rules broken that day, but they would never be violated again.
Slipping over the side, Joe kicked hard for the bottom ‑ he could hardly wait to see what it would be. Thirty feet below he began to make out the familiar but sometimes elusive shapes of a typical Gulf coral reef formation. On the bottom, he decided to explore out just a little further, as the formations got bigger and more numerous. The best spot of the day, and it’s almost time to head back home ‑ damn, he cursed to himself – I’m here now and I have the air – I will look around.
. Joe swam in a large circle so as not to get too far away from the boat when he surfaced. Far from his sight, a minor event was taking place that would soon change this idyllic weekend outing, to a frightful nightmare. The anchor line which Joe failed to check, in his haste to explore the bottom, had caught a sharp piece of coral – ABOVE THE CHAIN, and the tugging action of the boat above, in the gentle breeze, Began to fray the line.
Oblivious to the threat – He thought to himself, I’ll bet Ray’s northern friend would love to take back some genuine Gulf of Mexico coral to show his snowbird friends ‑ why not. With the stout pummel of his large dive knife, Joe proceeded to select a few prime specimens of the plentiful Staghorn coral into the dive bag. Finally a spot worth seeing – just a few more minutes he rationalized .
There were sea fans, sponges, colorful tropicals and several large grouper ‑ it was a Gulf diving experience at it’s best! Joe had started the dive with a fairly full tank, and as he glanced at the high pressure gauge, he was reminded that his “five minute” dive had gone on over half an hour and the 500 psi reading said it was about time to call it a day.
Anyway, he was almost exhausted and struggled to get to the surface with a few lbs of prize coral. Not too fast, don’t pass any of his bubbles he reminded himself as the bottom faded away to shadows.
Halfway to the surface, the water above him began to get brighter, and the surface could be seen, getting closer, he could see his exhausted bubbles burst on the surface now only a few feet away. He smiled, “I hope they didn’t worry”, but no matter, just wait till they see this coral. Just as he broke the surface he thought briefly about his not taking the BC with him.
That damn coral now seemed to weigh a ton with no flotation device. Spitting the regulator out of his mouth he took a deep breath of the free air on the surface. A wide expanse of ocean greeted his eyes ‑ “boat’s behind me” he mused, and did a 180 while treading water. His heart pounded when more open horizon met his stare. “What the hell” he blurted out, as he dropped one armload of coral to free a hand to remove the sight restrictive mask.
Joe turned quickly around in a complete circle, and then again ‑ it was no mistake ‑ the boat was gone. The remaining coral booty now became an anchor which he soon realized and turned it loose as it plummeted to it’s home 70 feet beneath the surface. Joe’s first instinct was anger ‑ he couldn’t believe those guys would just take off and leave him ‑ “damn them, why would they do that?” His anger soon cooled as he assessed his situation. Neither of his friends were experienced boat handlers.
The boat was gone, he had no flotation device, he had even left his snorkel in the boat, it was now getting late in the afternoon, and a breeze had picked up, and it was a 20 mile swim home, and he was almost exhausted from giving the heavy coral a free ride ‑ he realized that he was in serious trouble.
The tank was about empty, and tough to swim with so he took it off. Ah ha! he remembered somewhere that an empty dive tank is buoyant. He gave it a little shove under, and it didn’t resurface for 10 or 15 seconds ‑ so much for the tank support theory. He jettisoned the tank but kept the regulator around his neck. That soon became burdensome and he reluctantly let it slip beneath the surface. Strange how we tend to cling to ‘material’ toys even when they may endanger our lives, he thought to himself.
After what seemed like an eternity of treading water he spotted smoke on the northern horizon, and underneath the smoke wisp appeared what looked to be a party boat, and it was getting larger. Hope at last. He started swimming toward the vessel which was now dead in the water less than a half mile away.
Suddenly his right calf knotted up like a board with a searing pain – damn cramp he thought cramp! Immobilize it and force it straight out, press on the instep of his left foot, and keep afloat with the hands. Nice trick, but it worked. As an experienced SCUBA diver he was used to dealing with such problems. Swim toward boat again, ten minutes later, another cramp, tighter and more painful. Joe knew he wasn’t prone to cramps and was surprised it happened again ‑ then it dawned on him.
That huge “Rambo” size dive knife was strapped on his right calf and it had to go. The knife went, with little thought about fending off sharks as night approached ‑ if he could survive that long. He tried floating on his back to rest his aching legs but the water had gotten rougher, and floating without a snorkel was now a tossup as to whether it was better to expend more energy or swallow more seawater.
Indeed it was a party boat and Joe was making slow progress toward it when he saw smoke come out of the stack and the boat was underway again ‑ this time away from him. It steamed almost out of sight. He felt his heart stop. Now a new emotion was taking hold ‑ a fear he had never experienced before – terror. He had known normal fear on many occasions as have most adults. He had, after all – been a commercial pilot who had survived a night plane crash – a Green Beret paratroop commander that had been hospitalized twice for airborne operation mishaps and countless other experiences of the emotion we know as fear.
However what was unfolding now was a feeling he had only read bout TERROR!. It is difficult to verbalize as it transcends most human emotion and exposes a side of human experience that reaches the most primitive survival instincts and deprives the victim from any semblance of rational processes.
It is like a nausea that we feel coming on and try to suppress but realized that this savage side of our humanity is no longer in control and the fear reaches a level of control in which we are no longer capable of rational thought nor action. He could feel this coming on and tried to fight it – realizing that once he allowed himself to become totally panicked he was a dead man.
The charter boat that was his only hope of rescue had ventured to far and his only hope was to swim to shore – which became more impossible with every passing minute. He could not enjoy the ‘luxury’ of floating to rest – as the water had become too choppy to allow it without swallowing some saltwater. He wished he had only had the sense to have at least taken his snorkel with him – DAMN his bad judgment!
Even though he had rid his leg of the cumbersome heavy knife – the cramp had still persisted and each time he dealt with it – it consumed more valuable energy. He had been in the water long enough that he also became aware that without a wet-suit he was beginning to feel the first stages of a mild hypothermia. Being a 100 degree body in a vast 85 degree ‘ocean sponge’ – Joe would have to conserve energy just to ward off the constant heat exchange.
Joe began to have dark thoughts that crept into his mind like unwanted visitors. What if sharks showed up? DAMN – I should have kept the knife he thought in remorse. I cannot stay afloat treading water forever – so I will probably just drown. I wonder what my body will look like when they find it on shore – eaten by crabs? My elderly parents would be so grief stricken he thought. Some pretty ugly images pop into your head in these desperate situations.
I AM GOING TO DIE. There is no way out of this, he thought. Oh – God if you ever considered I had a further need to live help me now! I promise that if I survive this I will never complain about any hardship you give me again. I hope that was not too selfish or shallow a request – he thought. I was out of words, prayers or wishes. I Knew I was a dead man and thinking clearly, was fading fast.
Just about then he noticed smoke from the stack of the party boat! Was he going back to port or was he searching for me? My boat couldn’t have sunk and the guys have to realized I was in trouble and maybe they went to the charter boat for help. It seemed a logical though but in his condition he was fighting for every minute of his life and grasping for straws of hope, was all he had left. Without any hope you have no will.
Joe noticed that the charter boat was actually steaming in HIS direction (South) and not due West to their home port. He reasoned that since it was so late in the day they would not be seeking another fishing stop but were logically still looking for him – hopefully.
The ship stopped and seemed to be at anchor or at least not under way. This time they had stopped closer than they had been before. They were abeam to me – port side to me and about 100 yards away. I started splashing and screaming at the top of my lungs – HELP ME – HELP ME – I’m HERE! Nothing – then I realized that my head was all they could see and at that distance with the choppy water –even though there was still enough sunlight – He was still too far away. It was like trying to see something smaller than a basketball in a choppy water surface almost a thousand feet away.
It was then when Joe made a decision that would either save my life or end it. He could either stay there and conserve what little energy he had left– and hope they would either somehow see him and bring the boat closer – OR make a last desperate swim to get close enough to be seen or heard.
Time was running out and the boat could leave at any second leaving him to a watery grave. Joe decided to go for broke! He was in no condition to do what had normally been a difficult but doable swim for him – and he was now suffering from exhaustion, salt water ingestion, nausea cramps and growing hypothermia.
He then remembered his training at airborne school at Ft. Benning years before. One of the things taught him there is that you can drive yourself further than ever thought possible just from unbreakable will power. He started counting strokes backwards from 100 – the repeat the process – 100-99-98-97- etc., etc. over and over – all the while chanting airborne school lyrics – to help do those what seemed impossible mile runs — “Gonna go all the way” – “can’t quit –won’t Quit – can’t quit” – “all the way – airborne” – almost in a trance. If he failed this challenge he would die. He kept going for what seemed like an eternity but was in reality just a few minutes. It HAD to be done!
Suddenly he realized that he was finally less than a hundred feet away. He started screaming as loud as he could – he could actually taste the salty blood in his throat from frantically screaming. To his dismay, he saw that there was only ONE person at the rails facing in his general direction. He also noticed that his elbows were spread out to left and right above his shoulders. Is he looking through binoculars Joe thought to himself!
Then suddenly the man disappeared and walked away. For a second or two Joe was shocked and dazed – then the unexpected happened – Dozens of people all rushed to the side of the boat where the man who saw him only a moment before was. Although he did not see the man who had actually saved him, present in the crowd – he had been saved! Thank God!
A few minutes later his own boat appeared coming around the stern of the charter boat to rescue him. His friends in his boat had apparently become disoriented and had been searching for hours on the wrong side of the large charter fishing boat – the Dixie Queen – all this time. They were headed pretty much in his direction at full speed but he noticed that they weren’t waving at me or yelling to him – and to his horror he realized that they had not actually SEEN HIM YET – but of course – how could they at that distance with only my head above water and the seas getting a bit choppy. For a moment Joe realized that they might actually be run over by his own boat! – so he waved and yelled frantically – OH SHIT! he thought – I have survived drowning against ALL the odds, and now my OWN friend in MY boat might kill me! Then he realized they had made real eye contact. His boat slowed and idled up close to him. He grabbed the side of the boat and felt as if he had just woken up from a very long real life nightmare. As his friends reached out to help him onboard he suddenly felt some sort of rush of energy and hoisted himself – diving gear and all by himself. Only a short time ago he was weak, exhausted and just physically and mentally done in. He and his guests exchanged handshakes and waved goodbye to the people on the Dixie Queen that had helped with his rescue The nightmare ordeal was over and Joe had cheated death once again!
Joe and his friends went to the ramp and loaded the boat. His friends had their own car so after a few brotherly hugs were exchanged he bid them farewell. He felt like he had been given another life. The feeling he had was a drugless high which was indescribable. He had recognized the charter boat – The Dixie Queen – as belonging to a personal friend and was berthed nearby.
When Joe arrived the crew were still cleaning up from he day’s trip. The owner was not there but the captain and first mate were. HE knew them casually well from years before. He went aboard and identified himself as the person who had been rescued in the Gulf. Joe then asked the remaining crew if they remembered the rescue situation.
Indeed they did but when asked to see the manifest of passengers nobody recognized the person who rescued me at the upper deck rails. They admitted that they remember my recovery but none could give a description of the man who saved me. It was as if he never existed. Joe would have thought that a guest that had been part of a life saving event would have been long remembered.
How many of the passengers would have binoculars? And they were not belonging to the passenger – would someone in the crew have remembered lending their binoculars to a passenger to search for a lost diver?
The event was such a trauma that the next morning after he woke up Joe was still in doubt that the whole thing was not a dream – so he went to his closet to inspect his dive gear. He had two complete sets of tanks and regulators. One complete set was missing.
This is a true story. The reason I knew the events and details so well was because I LIVED THEM.
I WAS THE ‘JOE’ LOST AT SEA
What do you think? Was it all a coincidence and was the unknown passenger just a normal passenger that the crew did not remember – or something more ‘miraculous’?
Joe Cortina, 82, was recently interviewed and has several videos on Brian Ruhe’s Bitchute channel. Click on:
Joe Cortina is back. Brian & Joe Discuss Presidents and Issues of the Day – Part 1 of 7
Joe Cortina on Jesus, Hitler, Kennedy and Trump – Part 1 of 3
