A peculiar thought comes to mind. I know people will find my boat and my body. I begin to suspect that soon after my death a rumor will start . . . he killed himself . . . you know he wasn’t happy . . . it was suicide. I contemplate this for a moment, and I resolve, deep down, that I will fight even harder now. No way am I going to allow people to smear my name or my family with these slanderous rumors. Com’on, Davie; push. Don’t let these people win.
I think of my foolish lamentations just prior to falling off EspŽrance. No, no indeed, I do not want to die.
I am going to die. I just know I am going to die. I am going to slowly slip into unconsciousness and die. Well, I tried.
Stroke, kick, stroke, kick, stroke, kick, again the monotony and the rhythm lull me into a semi-trance and I feel unconsciousness creeping in. My peripheral vision becomes gray as I begin to slip into death. I see flashing stars before my eyes and my vision narrows even more . . . it’s quiet . . . “NNNNOOOOOOO! FOCUS; JUST DO IT!” . . . swim, man; don’t stop; you can’t stop. “O Lord, help me!”
“I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God. . . . Deliver me . . . and let me not sink: let me be delivered . . . out of the deep waters. Let not the waterflood overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up, and let not the pit shut her mouth upon me. . . . Make haste, O God, to deliver me; make haste to help me, O Lord” (Psalm 69:3,14-15; 70:13I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God. (Psalm 69:3)
14Deliver me out of the mire, and let me not sink: let me be delivered from them that hate me, and out of the deep waters. 15Let not the waterflood overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up, and let not the pit shut her mouth upon me. (Psalm 69:14‑15)
1<<To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David, to bring to remembrance.>> Make haste, O God, to deliver me; make haste to help me, O Lord. (Psalm 70:1)).
It is so dark. I am surprised. Behind me are the lights of the Roberts Super Port and farther out to the north, the lights of Vancouver. My city — where I was born, where I was raised, and now where I die.
I take the pants and think that perhaps I can make a few hundred feet or so on my back using them as a pillow for my head. This way I figure I will get some rest and a good change from the continuous frog kick to flutter kick. As I roll over and assume the new position, indeed a sense of rest pervades my body. Ahhh, it feels good. I even enjoy it momentarily. Relaxed, I close my eyes for a moment. I open them and look around. “Oh for crying out loud! I’m going the wrong way!”