Mike Dixon

It was best not to think about it. Negative thoughts only
make things worse. What mattered was to think positive.
That meant you had to clear your head. His martial arts in-
structor was a Zen enthusiast. He said the Buddhists did it
by reciting mantras. David didn‟t know any and fell back on
nursery rhymes.
‘Three blind mice. Three blind mice.
See how they run …’
He chanted over and over again and his mind began to
clear. The horror of Tim‟s death and the fear of dying were
replaced by a feeling of detachment. It was as if he had left
his body and was looking down at himself. His predicament
was now clear and it no longer frightened him. He was fif-
teen nautical miles offshore in a half-inflated boat and was at
the mercy of the currents. So one question mattered before
all others.
Where were the currents taking him?
Without the GPS there seemed no way of telling. His heart
sank. Then he thought of his father. Shortly before his fatal
posting to the Middle East, they had gone on a sailing trip. It
was just the two of them in a small boat. The weather was
fine and they had left New Haven and crossed to Long Island.
On the way his father told him about the navigational
aids used by the Vikings. He had explained that the old seafarers
had a sun compass that gave latitude and a magnetic
compass that gave direction. In shallow waters they used a
plumb line to measure depth and current.
David was thankful for that piece of information. There
was a coiled fishing line in a pocket of the boat. He took it
out, fitted a heavy weight and threw it over the side. After a
while the line touched bottom and snagged. He let it out,
arm over arm, glancing at his dive compass and counting.
He soon had a result.
121