Deep Water Page #5

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There were many

telegrams from him

where we couldn't

put out a story

because even stretching

our imaginations,

we couldn't decipher...

we couldn't figure out

what he was talking about.

They were cryptic

beyond belief.

One came through

"off Brazil."

Well, where off Brazil?

Sometime in the middle of January...

I think it was the 18th or the 19th,

we got a message saying

he was having trouble

and, in future,

we would not be receiving

any messages from him.

Um...

panic.

Rodney was facing

the prospect

of no information

at a crucial stage

in the race.

Swinton:
Crowhurst's last cable claimed

he was 500 miles

into the southern ocean,

and closing on Tetley.

Ahead of them,

Moitessier and Knox-Johnston

were approaching the most

dangerous part of the course...

the last stretch

of the southern ocean

before Cape Horn.

Knox-Johnston:

Cape Horn becomes fixed in your mind.

"Once I'm round

Cape Horn,

I can turn north.

I can get out of

this bastard of a place."

'Cause it is

a bastard of a place.

Imagine yourself

in something about

the size

of a small truck,

and coming towards you is

a 12-story high building.

That is the size

of the waves down there.

Bernard:

A great cape has a soul

with very soft,

very violent shadows

and colors.

A soul as smooth

as a child's,

as hard as

a criminal's.

And that is why we go.

One forgets everything,

seeing only the play

of the boat with the sea,

the play of the sea

around the boat,

leaving aside everything

not essential to that game.

One has to

be careful, though,

not to go further

than necessary

to the depths

of the game.

And that is

the hard part...

not going too far.

Donald:
"You look out

on this wild landscape

stretching away as far

as the eye can see,

streaks of spume

blown down the face

of these immense waves...

and froth-white foam

sending a great flurry

of spray and heavy water

all over everything.

And it's all

tremendously exciting,

and a tremendous

challenge, of course."

Swinton:
Crowhurst was drifting off

the coast of South America,

preparing a record

of his false journey,

film and audiotapes

that would be broadcast on his return.

In two months' time,

the race route would

bring the other sailors around Cape Horn

and past him.

At that point,

he could slip in beside them,

and sail for home.

Until then,

he could only wait.

He'd stopped all radio communication

to avoid detection.

His isolation

was complete.

Winspear:
There you are,

you're alone on your boat,

just you...

and the ocean.

It's the whole

of your universe,

it stretches

to the horizon.

It's totally indifferent.

And it just accentuates

the isolation.

From that moment,

the time bomb was ticking.

He had no longer

one enemy

which was the sea,

he had himself...

this problem

of imagination

and the delicate mechanism

of the mind.

Keeping a sort of watch

on sails by night.

Alone.

The rigging sighs a sigh

of cosmic sorrow

for weeping doves that die

maybe tomorrow.

On 12.7

by 10-to-the-five

irradiated olive trees.

A sigh to fill man's

soul with melancholy.

Waves, sweep away

my melancholy.

Swinton:

Then in the last week of February,

Crowhurst discovered

he had another problem.

Kerr:

His float splits.

He needs help.

But he's not where

he's supposed to be.

He's not in

the southern ocean.

He's just off

the coast of Brazil.

This is the trap

he's in.

Swinton:
If Crowhurst broke radio

silence to call for help,

his radio transmitter would

give away his true position.

For seven weeks now,

his family had heard nothing.

Simon:
It just became

more and more apparent

that something should have

been heard by now,

and it hadn't been.

And people began

to fear for the worst.

Clare:

You think, "Well, I didn't stop him

as I should have done."

The last night

at Teignmouth,

he did weep

for a long time

in our bedroom.

I knew that it

would be very easy

to say, you know,

"Don't go."

That's the awful thing,

you know?

You know

you could stop it,

and yet you know that it could be

disastrous if you did.

It's a bit

like children

who know that if you

squeeze them too tight,

they'll do

the exact opposite.

But you can't

ever know at the time

which road is going

to be the right one.

I remember in...

in Teignmouth,

shortly before

my father set sail,

listening in the hotel

to the sound of a gale.

I hadn't

realized before,

just how dangerous

the sea could be.

And I remember lying

in my bed in the hotel,

and listening

to these huge winds

and great waves

crashing...

and thinking,

"That's the sort of weather

that he's going to have to be coping

with in his boat."

Donald:

"March 4th:

Immediate problems:

One, establish

visual contact

Rio Salado entrance,

30 miles;

Two, repair float...

mo proper materials...

large sheet ply,

screws, glue;

Also require

oats, meths,

rice,

vindaloo paste."

Clare:

He knew what it was like

to come in contact

with people again.

And they responded

to him with warmth.

And yet, why he

didn't telephone home

is an overwhelming

question.

He must have known

we were desperate for news,

but he didn't.

He didn't communicate

at that stage,

which is, to me,

quite a shattering blow.

Winspear:
I think if you were

in the real world,

at that stage you would have

picked up the telephone...

and said, "Look,

I've had to stop."

Because landing

was a flagrant act

for disqualifying himself

from the race.

He was slowly but surely

getting himself exposed.

He had made

his first mistake.

That mistake was very likely

to be revealed,

particularly if the coastguards

had noted his presence.

Winspear:

Why didn't he stop then?

Why did he go

back out to sea?

I can only assume he was

half-in and half-out

of the real world

at this stage.

Swinton:

As Crowhurst sailed away from land,

the other sailors were

coming round the Horn

and racing north

for Europe and home.

Bernard Moitessier

had now been alone at sea

for nearly six months.

And the isolation was beginning

to affect him profoundly.

Bernard:

After Cape Horn, I felt I knew

I didn't want

to come back.

You see, it didn't

seem worth it.

I could feel it.

I didn't say so

to anyone.

I didn't dare to.

I hardly dared

admit it to myself.

Bernard:
Around the world

without stopping...

eight months alone,

completely alone,

with all that

the entails,

it had never

been done before.

Everything revolved around

that word, "alone"...

the nervous tension,

the food, the exhaustion,

my whole outlook.

Things which

mattered at the start,

didn't matter at all.

The rules of the game

had changed now.

The rules within me

had changed.

Donald:

I'm drunk, you circum...

You silly old circum...

You're as drunk as

a circumnavigator can be!

Hey, I'll tell you

something.

I think the director-

general of the BBC

is probably slipping some buckshot

into his 12-ball, as it were.

Oh, why should I worry?

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