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Hallucination on the High Seas Itienne Nicolas Creux from Switzerland Itienne Nicolas Creux from Switzerland describes with great clarity an hallucination he had while sailing on rough seas between France and Ireland.
In spring, 1993, we were taking a sailing ship, a 60-footer with two masts, from La Rochelle, France to South Ireland. On board was only the owner of the ship, my mother as skipper, and me. After a few days, we fell into a two-hour rhythm: two hours sleeping, two hours sailing and standing watch, and two hours eating, dressing, and doing personal things. Between England and south Ireland, we were hit by a strong storm. The bow of the ship was going up and down twenty feet, alternating between free fall and smashing back loudly into the sea. I had problems with sleeping. After two stormy days, the meteorologist announced even stronger wind for the next night. That night, my mother almost couldn't wake me up at two in the morning. The tiredness got to a point where you act like in a trance. It took me more than 15 minutes to dress, in a lying-down position, of course. Outside all hell had broken loose! The whole sea was white, and the waves seemed to be as high as mountains. Every second I was connected to the ship with a life belt; otherwise, I wouldn't have survived very long. The person on watch is always responsible for the ship and the sleeping crew members. The whole situation increased the psychological pressure. At three a.m., the first SOS message came in, followed by a few more. The race ships of a nearby regatta were having serious problems and needed help. A quick glimpse at the map showed me that we were close to them, but we were strongly forced to go with the wind and I hadn't any other possibility. At that time, it wasn't possible to wake up the others. It happened at 3:30 a.m. Suddenly I saw a light, then a small boat. In the boat stood an old man holding a lantern in one hand and waving with the other hand. I saw it. It was real. It shocked me so much that I felt paralyzed. At the top of every wave, I saw him again—four times. For a long time, I didn't know what to think about this. Now I know it couldn't have been real. Such a small boat couldn't have resisted in that storm. The man couldn't have stood in the boat with those waves. Finally, I drew a picture of that old man, and my older sister remembered seeing it in an old children's picture book which I last saw at the age of about three years. Since then, I know the power of physical exhaustion and psychological pressure.
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