"What a beautiful day to go diving," I thought, as our three boat flotilla rounded the north end of Anclote Key and headed for the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico. The early morning fog was just lifting, revealing a vast mirror surface. "No bumpy ride, today. We'll get out there early," I told my crew. Oblivious to our impending rendezvous with danger, we could hardly await the adventure before us. Eager anticipation coursed through my body as I throttled up, putting my seventeen-foot "Mako Angler" on a smooth plane. The other boats could go faster, but I knew they wouldn't run off and leave me. I'd just have to give it full throttle and, full throttle, I did.

This was the first time I'd joined other boats. Normally, it was just a couple of guys on my boat. But, these were acquaintances from work and my crew wanted to see how the pros did it. I was really not very experienced and what little I did know about diving, I learned the hard way.

Months earlier, I took one of my friends from work fishing. He brought along his dive gear. Anchoring the boat in twenty feet of water, he helped me into the gear, told me what to do and over I went. Some lesson. I went to the bottom like a rock. Petrified, I held fast to the anchor until I figured I'd qualified. I kept expecting some shark to engulf me at any moment. The ice was broken and I was hooked on diving. The next week, I went out and bought the bare essentials. Soon I was diving every weekend. I was almost always afraid, yet, with another diver along, willing to be adventurous.

The half hour ride to the twelve-mile reefs gave me time to daydream. My mind was in a swoon anticipating the crystal clear water, the beautiful coral reefs and, of course, the grouper we hoped to soon encounter. Counting about a dozen of us on these three boats, I envisioned this dive might be a bit crowded. But, these guys had a reputation for finding the fish and that's what we needed. After all, fish-finding electronics in the early 70's was beyond the reach of recreational boaters like us. We'd have to settle for more primitive methods. An old salt fisherman once taught me to watch the water for tell tale signs of sudden color change. Dark patches meant bottom structure. It worked pretty well, if the water wasn't too deep.

The color suddenly darkened, signaling the change from desert white sand to coral, sponges, rocks and reef. That's what we were looking for. The other boats, making the same observation, cut their engines to an idle and we grouped to discuss the situation.

"Looks like we might be on something. Who wants to check it out? No sense in all of us getting wet until we know what we've got," someone on one of the other boats advised. "I'll go," one of them quickly volunteered.  At that moment, I instinctively thought about how the early bird gets the worm and how with only two of us in the water, my chances of being the early bird were greatly increased.  Also volunteering, I added, "I'll go, as long as I have company." Having settled the issue, we readied our gear and suited up.

I had not met all the guys on the other boats. Nobody was volunteering introductions and I didn't bother to ask. The guy, who was going to dive with me, was one of those new faces. He was a big guy in his prime twenties. The equipment he was using was slightly better than mine. At least, he had gauges. My budget allowed only for the bare essentials. Having sized him up as confident and capable, I felt at ease as we splashed in and slowly descended. My dive buddy, having difficulty equalizing the pressure on his ears, delayed his descent. Getting to the bottom first, I waited for him to arrive a minute or so later. Waiting, I felt a strong current tugging, trying to sweep me away. As soon as my dive buddy touched down, he took the lead swimming across the reef. I followed. Yielding to the tow, we allowed the current to transport us across the bottom making our journey almost effortless.

Unfortunately, the bottom structure was not as good as we had hoped. We saw no grouper and only an occasional coral. However, all was not to be lost as we happened upon a most beautiful piece of coral, which I quickly envisioned in my saltwater aquarium. No sooner had I succeeded in prying it from the bottom, my buddy signaled he was low on air and was surfacing. This seemed very strange. We had not been down long and experience told me we should have had much more bottom time before exhausting our air supply. Swimming to him, I checked his gauge. Sure enough, he was low on air. "Wish I could afford the luxury of gauges with my regulator," I thought. We surfaced.

Breaking the mirror smooth surface, we looked for our boats. Locating them, immediately, revealed a serious problem. They were anchored at least a hundred yards away. Expecting them to follow our bubbles as we explored the reef below, they should have been there waiting for us when we surfaced. They were not. We faced a long hard swim against a rip current. Hiding concern, I quietly hoped they would see us swimming and come pick us up.

We began using our snorkels. At least, we would not need the air in our tanks for the long swim ahead. Swimming, I reflected upon our situation. We were a long distance from our boats, making little headway against a strong current and tiring by the minute. Neither of us had buoyancy compensators. They were considered a luxury too expensive for this shoestring operation. Aware we were in trouble, I vowed to remain calm and just keep swimming. My dive buddy had said nothing about our situation, so I suppressed my anxiety, not wanting to alarm him. I thought about dumping the coral. It had to weigh at least five pounds. But it was such a prize. "Maybe the boats will notice us," I reasoned, trying to stay my fear. "Just stay calm. In a few minutes we'll be able to determine if we're making any headway."

Suddenly, something grabbed me by one of my fins and jerked me backwards. I recoiled in horror, thinking a big shark must have sensed my predicament and closed in for the kill.  Turning to face my attacker, the terror I faced was no less than expected. My dive buddy was drowning. His facemask was around his neck. He no longer had his snorkel in his mouth. His spear gun was gone. His backpack and tank were off his shoulders. The straps restrained his arms at the elbows. In his panic stricken effort to ditch his dive gear, he had forgotten to unbuckle his weight belt first. It prevented his freedom. Thrashing a frantic dog paddle to keep his head above water, he was obviously losing. The weight of his dive gear was dragging him under. I had to act fast.

Putting my regulator back in my mouth, I submerged and swam below him. Grabbing his legs, I swam upward with all my might. Quickly, I unbuckled his weight belt and then his backpack. Once the gear was free, I let him go. With his dive gear in hand, I quickly plunged the thirty feet from surface to bottom, my mind churning in utter turmoil. "Now, my worst fears were confirmed. Our predicament was perilous. It would be up to me to figure out what to do. Without an air gauge, there was no way of knowing how much air was left in my tank. Time was certainly against us. Listening for boat engines, I heard nothing. Obviously, no one knew of our situation. I could not sit on the bottom forever. Though relieved of his gear, there was no way of knowing if my dive buddy had regained enough composure to keep from drowning. Still, he had his fins. Surely, he could swim awhile with those." Looking skyward through the crystal clear water, revealed no trace of him. "I had acted stupid. I should never have left his side. Why did I opt to save his scuba gear? Scuba gear costs a lot of money but my decision may have cost him his life. Most certainly, even if he hasn't drowned, he probably hasn't enough sense to scream for help," I reasoned. "Otherwise, I'd hear those boat engines racing to the rescue. It was too late to change my mind. I had no idea what had now happened to him and here I was on the bottom clinging to all this scuba gear."

I sat on the bottom for another minute or two, thinking about life and death, wife and family. I wondered if rescue searchers would ever find our bodies. I had life insurance but it certainly was not enough to take adequate care of my family for long. I wasn't terrified of the thought of death but as I looked across the expanse of rippled white sand before me, I was certain that I did not want it to be my final resting place. I did not want to be dinner for the crabs while my wife and children fretted over my fate. If death was going to overtake me, I wanted to be found. And the thought of that impending final gasp for air... It would be fraught with terror and panic as I choked to death on water. Now that bothered me.

I inventoried my options. "I could ditch my dive buddy's equipment and swim to the surface. In this current, if I left it on the bottom, even for a quick trip to the surface and back, I would never be able to find it again. Hundreds of dollars in equipment would be lost. Alternatively, I could try to struggle to the surface with the entire load. If I could make it, I could let out a scream at the top of my lungs, hopefully, before drowning. I had already acted stupid in trying to save all this gear. Why not continue?" I opted to try the latter. Pushing off the bottom with all my might, I kicked as hard as my aching legs would allow. Watching the mirror surface above, I could see I was moving upward. Finally, breaking the surface, I spit out my regulator and screamed as loud as I possibly could. "Help!"

Down I went, like a rock. I struggled to capture my regulator and get it back into my mouth. It was a moment of pure agony, having expelled all available air from my lungs to scream. Finally, with a breath, I relaxed to let my body slide to the depths. Back on the bottom, I rested, while listening for the sound of a boat engine. Nothing. "Damn," I thought, "We're gonna die for sure." Seriously contemplating my impending demise compelled me to try again. Shoving off the bottom once again, I struggled in agony to the surface and expelled a scream. Again, frantic for a fresh breath, struggling to get my regulator back into my mouth, I plunged to the bottom. Listening again, I finally heard the sound I longed for, engines. Patiently, I waited, as the engines throttled up. After a minute, they slowed. I continued to wait. "Surely they were picking up my dive buddy," I hoped. "Either that or they're looking for our bodies. I'll need them to grab me quick. With all this weight I won't be able to stay on the surface long." I waited a moment longer and then pushed off the bottom once again. As I slowly rose, I looked upward for signs of a boat hull. I saw nothing. Finally, breaking the surface, I saw them coming for me. I just kept kicking as hard as I could, trying to stay close enough to the surface for them to reach. Finally, I felt the grab. I was safe.

"Man we thought you was a goner," I heard someone say, while thrusting my cargo upward and into their hands. "When we heard you scream and saw you go under, we thought it was all over. Man, you scared the hell out of us. What happened?" Obviously confused, it took several minutes of explaining for them to realize what had taken place. During the discussion, I learned my dive buddy had never dove the Gulf before. He was a novice with only one dive under his belt and that was just a few minutes in a spring fed lake the day before. All of us had been negligent and responsible for the calamity that almost claimed a life. Yet, we had been lucky and escaped. I vowed not to repeat the same mistakes ever again.

I have never thought of my actions as heroic, although, at least one person in this world thinks so. With few options to choose from, I was compelled by necessity to act. Looking back, we could have made better choices. We took chances, got lucky, and lived to learn from our foolish mistakes.

Keyword: scuba diving drowning gulf of mexico lost florida

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Comments (3)

Posted by philneale1952 2008-06-30 12:12:27 .... Some great descriptive stuff, and a tight, rivetting story. Could have been there with you if I knew how to dive. At one point I found myself holding my breath as you made for the surface (don't know why). Phil + Report this comment
Posted by lemon 2008-06-30 12:24:36 .... any story that makes you feel THAT into it is a good one. + Report this comment
Posted by chaabuk 2008-08-12 21:10:13 .... You have such a repertoire of work, offering a great variety for the reader. This one about scuba diving is also interesting. I was waiting with bated breath for something to happen... + Report this comment

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