Adrift in the Pacific | Creatures of the Sea | 3
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A listener note. Against the Odds uses dramatizations that are based on true events. Some elements, including dialogue, may be invented, but everything is based on research. Marilyn Bailey winces as water whips across her face. There's so much rain she can barely see. With her shaky skeletal hands, Marilyn clutches the bottom of the life raft. Her stomach is empty and she feels queasy. She's hungry and scared.

scared that she and her husband Maurice won't be able to survive much longer. It's June 5th, 1973. Marilyn and Maurice have been adrift in a pair of rubber lifeboats in the Pacific Ocean for 94 days. For over a week, dark clouds have been pouring rain down on them almost nonstop. Last night, they had to continuously bail water from their partially deflated life raft without a break.

And today, they've been caught in a raging storm for hours. Maurice is in the dinghy, which is tethered to the life raft. He's trying to fish, which seems crazy in this weather, but hunger has made them both desperate. Marilyn watches him, hoping he catches something quickly so he can come back to join her in the life raft.

Maurice turns to say something to her, but just then, Marilyn feels the life raft being thrust upwards by the immense force of a monster wave. She feels herself rising higher and higher, then suddenly crashing back down. Marilyn finds herself knocked onto her back. Somehow, the life raft is still afloat. But what about the dinghy?

On all fours, she crawls to the small opening in the life raft's funnel-shaped roof. And when she looks out, what she sees fills her with terror. The dinghy is still there, but it's been flipped upside down by the violent wave. And there's no trace of her husband anywhere. Maryse! Maryse! Marilyn can barely hear her own screams in all the wind and rain.

She wishes she could dive into the crashing waves and go after Maurice, but that would be a death sentence. She can't swim. Marilyn scans the surface of the raging sea and whispers to herself, "Come back to me. You can't leave me alone. Come back." At that very moment, Maurice's head emerges out of the water. He's at least 50 feet from the dinghy.

Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second. Then Maurice disappears again. The waves are several feet high and keep pulling him back down. Each time that Marilyn loses sight of his head for two or three seconds, her stomach drops. But she won't let him die here. She has to find a way to get him back into the life raft with her.

Suddenly, the sea spits Maurice out again, directly in front of the upside-down dinghy. Maurice! Behind you! Grab the dinghy! Maurice turns around, somewhat disoriented. He grabs hold of the rubber boat. Good. Now grab the rope and pull yourself over to me.

Maurice's lips are blue and he's trembling uncontrollably. But slowly, bit by bit, he manages to pull himself all the way to the entrance of the life raft. He collapses, exhausted. Marilyn grabs his arms. With her last ounce of strength, Marilyn pulls him into the raft. They wrap their arms around each other and hold on tight for several minutes.

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Progressive Casualty Insurance Company & Affiliates. Price and coverage match limited by state law. From Wondery, I'm Cassie DePeckel, and this is Against the Odds. In 1973, English couple Maurice and Marilyn Bailey found themselves stranded in the Pacific Ocean after a whale struck their yacht and sank it.

At first, they managed to survive by eating turtles and fish and collecting rainwater to drink. But as weeks turned to months and they drifted farther from land, the Baileys began to wonder how much longer they could hold on before someone came to their rescue. This is episode three, Creatures of the Sea. Maurice Bailey hangs a fish fillet out to dry on a makeshift mast they've built on their dinghy. He's managed to preserve about 20 fish so far.

He's being careful not to let what fish they have go to waste. Anything from today's catch that they don't eat right away, they'll dry out and save for later. At first, Maurice feared that all their fishing equipment was lost when their dinghy capsized in the storm a few days ago. But miraculously, Marilyn managed to find another safety pin at the very bottom of their emergency bag and used it to make another fish hook.

Now they're extremely careful not to lose it. Apart from their water supply, it's the most precious thing they have. It's 9:00 a.m. on June 12th, 1973, 100 days since their yacht, the Oral-Inn, sank, leaving them adrift in the Pacific Ocean. At the moment, they're in a particularly bountiful area. Their boats are constantly surrounded by all sorts of animals. There are turtles and dolphins everywhere.

The bright blue wolf herrings with their shimmering yellow tail fins taste great, even raw. And countless seabirds circle overhead. Their life raft has become a small, floating ecosystem.

Maurice stands up to reinflate the dinghy. Twice a day, they have to pump air into the dinghy, and the life raft needs it every 15 minutes. It's so hot that Maurice is wearing nothing but a shirt to protect him from sunburn and his underpants. But at night, it often gets so cold that it feels like they could freeze to death. Their carefree time on the Orlin seems like a faraway dream.

Now it's just him and Marilyn, the ocean, and his increasingly frequent thoughts of death. Maurice is running a high fever and has a severe cold. Marilyn's shins are black and blue from constantly rubbing against the rubber floor of the raft. Her face is sunken and her skin hangs loosely over her bones.

She must have lost 30 pounds, but she hasn't lost her optimism. Don't forget, today is Sunday, which is Orland Memorial Day, and it's the 100th day we've survived. Today, we're going to have a feast. Maurice smiles at her.

For a while now, she's been telling him what she would eat every day if she actually had a choice. She goes in order, from breakfast, on to snacks, lunch, and sometimes she imagines entire dinner parties.

Marilyn gives Maurice a loving pat on the arm. For breakfast today, I think I'll have melon, poached eggs, and a slice of bread with so much butter. Plus coffee and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, of course. Maurice nods as she goes on describing her dream meals. But unlike Marilyn, Maurice is losing faith that they'll ever get to taste all those delicacies again.

He looks at the compass. They're drifting further north and west, away from the nearest land. When they first sank, they were maybe 300 miles from the Galapagos Islands and only 250 miles from the coast of South America. Now, Maurice estimates that they're about a thousand miles from the nearest coast. Maybe their life raft will be found in Alaska someday, Maurice thinks. And then he's seized by a violent coughing fit.

He looks at Marilyn, who has her eyes closed, imagining her breakfast. But he knows their situation has never been more hopeless. It's June 21st, day 109. Maurice lies in the back of the life raft, trying to keep his eyes open. It's been over three months since he or Marilyn had been able to get a full night's sleep, and they're both exhausted. But he can't let himself drift off. Not now.

He's on life raft duty. Every 15 minutes, he has to pump air into the slowly deflating raft. He also has to bail water, though he's no longer sure if it's doing any good. The bottom of the raft seems to always have several inches of water in it, no matter how much they bail. Maurice doesn't know how much more of this he can take.

The last few days have been extremely difficult, but today at least the sun is shining and the water is calm for the first time in almost a week. Maurice blinks himself awake and looks at Marilyn. She's sitting at the open entrance to the raft, dragging her hand listlessly through the water.

She smiles. This one little shark keeps circling right under my hand. It's almost like he wants me to pet him. Careful. I think he'd sooner eat you than make friends with you. Oh, relax. See? He just let me run my finger down his back. His skin is so rough. Sharks are among the many fish that seem to congregate around their boats. They were scary at first, but now Maurice and Marilyn have gotten used to them.

They've never once attacked the boats or shown any interest in anything except eating the occasional fish. Suddenly, Marilyn reaches both hands into the water. Maurice watches, astonished, as she lifts the shark out of the water by its tail. It flails around wildly, mouth open, flashing its sharp teeth.

It's not a big shark, maybe two and a half feet long, but its thrashing body seems to fill the cramped interior of the life raft. "Maurice! Help me!" Maurice grabs a towel and wraps it around the shark's snapping jaws as fast as he can. "Have you lost your mind?" "How long do you think it can survive out of the water?" "We're about to find out." Together, they pin the shark to the bottom of the life raft.

After a few minutes, the animal finally stops struggling. Maurice removes the towel and, without saying a word, hauls the dead shark into the dinghy, where he begins gutting it with her blunt pocket knife. Maurice has barely finished his work when he hears a blood-curdling scream. He looks up to see that Marilyn has grabbed another shark out of the water and is pulling it into the life raft. Maurice can't believe it.

Knife in hand, he pulls on the rope tethered to the life raft to bring it closer, then reaches out and stabs the knife deep into the shark's gills. Blood gushes out. Maurice jabs the knife into the shark over and over again until it goes still. But Marilyn is unstoppable. "I got another! I got another!" "For God's sake, Marilyn, please stop. I'm begging you." Maurice can hardly believe his eyes.

He rushes over as fast as he can to kill this one, too, before it bites off her arm. That evening, once all the stress is behind them, Maurice is actually glad that his wife was so enthusiastic. They have loads of shark meat now. While they eat, they're in a better mood than they have been in a long time. Maurice still feels extremely weak and has severe chest pains, but at least his stomach is full and his fever has gone down.

They talk about where they'll go on their next trip, once they've been rescued. Usually, Marilyn does most of the fantasizing for both of them. But today, Maurice joins in. I definitely want to sail to Patagonia. There's great wind and it's deserted. Yes, I'm sure we'd always have really good wind there.

But it's so cold that far south. Not in summer. Why not someplace warmer, like Fiji or Hawaii? Hey, maybe that's where we're drifting to right now. We'll wash up on Waikiki Beach. Maurice laughs and smiles at Marilyn. He just hopes her optimism can get them through whatever else might be coming. It's June 27th, 1973, day 115.

Maurice is crouched at the entrance of their life raft, staring up at the sky, a million stars twinkling down at him. Every now and then, a shooting star paints an endlessly long streak across the dark blue night sky. Even though his strength continues to fade, Maurice feels a strange sense of peace tonight. He thinks about his life, in particular, about all the things he's grateful for.

He can't help but grin when he realizes that, despite his predicament, he considers himself one of the luckiest men in the world, married to someone as remarkable as Marilyn. What he wouldn't give to be able to grow old with her. He's often imagined what his wife would look like with white hair, sitting in a rocking chair on a farm in New Zealand. Suddenly, Maurice is torn from his thoughts. Bubbles rise to the water's surface in front of him.

They burst and then drift apart in rings. Something seems to be coming up, very slowly, from the depths of the ocean, as if the creature were shy. And then a large glassy eye appears directly in front of him. Staring at him, Marie stares back. It's the eye of a whale. Its spotted, leathery skin shines on the surface of the water.

Maurice knows that a similar creature was responsible for sinking the oralin, but for some reason, he doesn't feel afraid. It's like he's hypnotized. He silently nudges Marilyn to get her attention. Her eyes are closed and she still hasn't noticed their visitor. That's how quietly the whale rose to the surface. When Marilyn sees it, her eyes go wide.

What does it want with us? I don't know, but if it tips us over, I don't think I'll have the strength to save you. Just grab the ropes and don't let go, okay? The whale must be about 25 feet long. It's so close they can almost touch it. For several minutes, it just quietly floats alongside them. Its calm presence almost seems like a message, like this animal is telling them that they now belong, that the ocean has accepted them.

Then the whale disappears back into the depths. They are now part of the Pacific, Maurice thinks. They feel like creatures of the sea, not land dwellers. Somehow this encounter with the whale has given Maurice a strange sense of peace. Marilyn, on the other hand, seems energized. That was so amazing. I wish I'd taken a photo. No one will believe this story.

The way she says it, Maurice realizes that Marilyn still believes they'll make it back. He hopes she's right. But at the same time, he finds himself feeling oddly reconciled to his fate. Tonight, for the first time, he feels ready to die.

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Marilyn talks to them as if they were her best friends. From time to time, they let the turtles out on a line in the open water to swim. It's June 30th, 1973, 118 days since they were forced to abandon ship. Marilyn feels surprisingly good today because she slept for more than an hour for the first time in as long as she can remember. And now it's Maurice's turn.

She looks over to where he lies sleeping, naked as God made him. The life raft is rocking him gently on almost imperceptible waves. A light southerly wind blows a cool breeze. Maurice's beard is so long and bushy, he looks like the castaway from the stories, Robinson Crusoe. Marilyn watches him take quick, shallow breaths as he sleeps.

His health has really deteriorated over the past few days, and Marilyn suspects he won't last much longer. She feels a sharp pang in her heart at the thought of it. Then she freezes. She sticks her head out of the life raft to look around. She could swear she hears something. The horizon is empty. Still, she decides to shake Maurice awake.

I hear a ship's engine. Leave me alone, Marilyn. Wake up Wayne instead. Marilyn realizes that Maurice is hallucinating again. Sometimes he's convinced that there's a third person in the life raft with them. An American they met in Panama named Wayne.

Marilyn grabs the binoculars and her yellow rain jacket and crawls from the life raft into the dinghy. She stands up and waves the jacket around wildly, causing the boat to rock back and forth. There is nothing to be seen far and wide, but Marilyn persists. Very faintly under the sound of lapping water, she can clearly hear engine noises.

She can see from her husband's expression that he thinks she's gone completely crazy. Ships disappeared from our lives long ago, darling. Maurice, I don't have time for your pessimism right now. Now, wave your jacket with me. Let's go. If that's what you want. As soon as Maurice joins her on the dinghy, Marilyn sees it on the horizon. A ship. A ship.

coming towards them from the east. "Over here! We're over here!" Marilyn jumps up and down, struggling to keep her balance in the wobbly rubber boat. Maurice is so weak that standing up is a huge effort, but he manages to do it and starts waving his rain jacket over his head. The sun reflects off the yellow, water-repellent material. The ship is approaching.

Now, through the binoculars, Marilyn can make out the details. It's a small, rusty white fishing vessel. And from the looks of it, it will pass very close by them, about a half a mile away. Marilyn counts back. It's the first ship they've seen in 43 days. Maurice drops to his knees. The ship is pulling away, but Marilyn refuses to give up.

She shouts and screams and waves her jacket as high in the air as she can, despite how weak her wiry arms feel. Please, please come back. Please. Let it pass, Marilyn. Save yourself the energy. Our life is here on the ocean now, with the fish and the birds and the turtles. But Marilyn doesn't listen to him.

She knows if the ship doesn't rescue them, then it's over. They can't survive any longer. Captain Seo Jung stands on the bridge of his ship and scans the blue horizon of the Pacific Ocean. He's happy to be back in these waters. For the past two and a half years, he and his 20-man crew have been tuna fishing in the Canary Islands. But now they're finally heading home to Busan, South Korea.

Captain Suh takes off his jacket and drapes it over the back of his chair. His ship, the Woolme 306, sails smoothly over the calm water. It's almost four o'clock in the afternoon, time for a coffee. But just then, he sees his chief engineer, Baisuk Don, rushing up the stairs to the bridge. He's carrying a pair of binoculars and seems worked up. Captain, one of our men spotted something at sea.

He thinks it might be an SOS signal. Here in the middle of the ocean? There's nothing for hundreds of miles. Suh frowns and looks at the coordinates. It seems impossible. He's never seen another ship in this part of the Pacific, but he trusts his crew. They're skilled at spotting things on the horizon or the surface of the water. He grabs his binoculars from the rack and then walks swiftly towards the bow.

Several of his crew have gathered at the railing. They're all pointing in the same direction. Sulla sees binoculars to his eyes, and he sees it. Something is moving back and forth, like someone waving a flag. Men, gather all rescue equipment and first aid supplies. As he continues giving orders, Captain Sulla runs back to the bridge. If there really are people there, then they urgently need help.

Maurice sits in the dinghy with Pet and Thelma, gently petting one of the turtles on its shell. He's trying not to get upset. He thinks it's completely absurd that Marilyn still hasn't given up. The ship must be at least two or three miles away at this point. If only they had another emergency signal, but they don't. The ship can't see them. Marilyn continues shouting and waving her rain jacket, but then she stops.

Good, Maurice thinks. She's finally facing reality. But when he looks up at his wife, she's still staring at the horizon. And there's a smile on her face. It's coming back. Marilyn hands him the binoculars. Maurice peers through them. And what he sees gives him goosebumps. The ship really is coming back. You're right, Marilyn. It's a ship.

"You saved us! Come on, let's put some clothes on. We can't get rescued like this." Maurice remembers that they're both completely naked. They've gotten so used to not wearing clothes that it didn't occur to him. Together, they climb into the life raft and start to get dressed. As he pulls on shorts and a tattered shirt, Maurice feels a tremendous weight lifting off him. They didn't give up. They've managed the impossible.

They've survived for almost four months. Instead of trying to fight against the Pacific Ocean, they fought hard to live by its rules. As the ship approaches, Maurice feels a hint of sadness. He'll miss the solitude of the open ocean. He'd gotten used to it. But as he glances at his wife's face and sees silent tears of joy running down her cheeks, he feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Now he gets to spend the rest of his life with this amazing woman. The ship maneuvers alongside them. As it gets closer, they can make out a few figures waving over the railing. Now faces, too. Real people. Maurice can't help but laugh out loud. He'll probably never forget the shock in the crew's eyes. He realizes how pitiful he and Marilyn must look.

Two skeletons sticking out of two half-deflated rafts. One more storm and they would have sunk for sure. Marilyn watches as a thick rope line falls into the water just past the dinghy where she and Maurice are sitting. Then a second one lands right next to them in the boat. Maurice ties the end of the line tightly to the dinghy's rubber handle and signals to the men on the other end.

Then they can feel themselves being pulled towards the ship. Marilyn cranes her neck to look up at the railing. When they are close enough, she puts her hand on the side of the ship. Tears freely run down her cheeks. Now that it's happening, she can hardly believe it. They are really being rescued. The sailors' voices sound strange and surreal. They shout down to them and wave. Marilyn waves back and wonders what she must look like.

She hasn't looked at herself in a mirror for almost four months. Her legs are just two sticks. The rusty ship seems gigantic to her, but it's so much smaller than a container ship. She wonders who it belongs to and what kind of men they are. She looks up at the railing again. A young Asian man in a white t-shirt is looking down at her.

He's wearing a captain's hat. "Do you speak English?" "Yes, we are English." Then a hanging ladder drops down for them. Maurice pulls the dinghy towards it so that Marilyn can climb up first. But then a sailor jumps down onto the dinghy. Holding the ladder at the bottom, he signals for Maurice to go up. Maurice looks over at Marilyn. She nods for him to go first.

Maryse shakily stands up and clutches the wobbly ladder. Marilyn watches as her husband slowly pulls himself up, little by little. Fortunately, it's a small ship, and it's not very far to the railing. Several hands are already reaching out towards him, helping him up. Marilyn watches from below as the crew takes her husband on board. She smiles shyly at the sailor, who has now joined her in the dinghy.

It's her turn. When Marilyn puts her first foot on the ladder, she feels how weak she has become. Her limbs are stiff. They don't want to do what she asks. After the first step, she slips and falls back. But the sailor is there immediately, supporting her from behind. The other men shout things to her from above that she doesn't understand. At least six hands reach out to her.

And all of a sudden, without her knowing exactly how, Marilyn is sitting on the solid deck of the ship. She looks around. Where's Maurice? A large blanket has been spread out a few yards away. Maurice is kneeling in the middle of it, surrounded by several men who are all talking to him in broken English. She tries to get up to join him, but falls back again. Her legs suddenly can't hold her weight.

Two sailors help her up and carry her over to the blanket, where she lies down next to Maurice. He strokes her cheek lovingly. "Darling, look. They prepared something for us." Marilyn sets up. In front of her stands a large man wearing a white apron around his waist. He's beaming at her, revealing a wide gap in his teeth. He has two cups of warm milk in his hands.

When the smell of it hits Marilyn's nose, she bursts into tears again. All around her are smiling, happy faces. Maurice takes her hand, squeezes it firmly, and looks deep into her eyes. Tears are also streaming down his emaciated face. "We made it, Marilyn. We actually made it." Marilyn turns to the cook and smiles as she takes the cup of steaming milk from his hand.

She can't believe the oral and sank 118 days ago. That's almost four months. But somehow, she and Maurice survived. This season, Instacart has your back to school. As in, they've got your back to school lunch favorites, like snack packs and fresh fruit. And they've got your back to school supplies, like backpacks, binders, and pencils. And they've got your back when your kid casually tells you they have a huge school project due tomorrow.

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The sailor who's escorting them stops and gestures to a wood-paneled door. As they're led into the officer's cabin, Maurice's eyes land on a bed. A proper mattress. Clean white pillows and blankets. To the left is a small table, and to the right, a separate toilet. Tears of joy blur his vision.

But when he looks in the bathroom mirror, he shudders. He quickly turns away from the strange face looking back at him. The door opens and the man in the captain's hat introduces himself. His name is Captain Seo Jung, but he tells them they can just call him Mr. Seo. Then he asks them to sit down at the table. Tell me you're not Russian. If you are Russians, that's a big problem. No, we're English.

I need to be sure you're not Russian spies. Maurice and Marilyn exchange a sideways glance. Is he serious? Why would spies be adrift in the Pacific Ocean? But then, Maurice thinks about how Korea is divided into North and South, with the North controlled by a Russian-aligned communist government. Maybe that explains the captain's paranoia.

Marilyn's face suddenly brightens. "We can prove we're English. We have our passports." Marilyn fishes their passports out of their sea bags, which the crew carried on board. Captain Suh takes the passports and looks at them for a long time. Then he peppers Maurice and Marilyn with questions, wanting to know where they're from, where they were going, and how long they'd been traveling.

As they answer each of the questions, he looks at them in disbelief, then jots down the most important information in his logbook. It takes half an hour before the interrogation is over. Finally, the captain smiles. "We'll help you, but my crew is very exhausted from working so hard. They all want to get home quickly.

Captain Suh opens the door. It's the cook, with a gap in his teeth, and he's holding a large tray. Two plates of steaming vegetable soup, bread and butter, two fried eggs, and two large glasses of milk.

Maurice's mouth is watering. The cook places the tray on the table in front of them. He warns them to eat slowly and not too much or they'll get sick. There will be plenty more later. Then Captain Suh and the cook leave the room. After the door closes, the Baileys stare in disbelief at the food laid out in front of them. Maurice's hand shakes as he grabs a spoon, dips it into a bowl of soup, then blows on it carefully.

He savors the taste of the warm broth as it runs down his throat. He looks up from the soup bowl. Marilyn's eyes are closed, and she's biting into a piece of bread with a thick slab of butter on top. The door opens again. Captain Suh tells them he's radioed his company in Seoul and told them about the rescue. And if they want, he can also send a message to their family in England. Maurice almost can't believe it.

They are finally going home. It's a beautiful summer's day in Derby, England, but it's dark in the little house where Susan, Marilyn's 58-year-old mother, lives by herself. She's drawn the curtains. She doesn't want to see anyone. She's been on sick leave from work for weeks and has barricaded herself inside her home. It's July 1st, 1973, and she hasn't heard anything from her daughter in over 12 weeks.

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How she let go of her hand for the last time and then waved as her yacht disappeared into a small dot on the horizon. Where is that yacht now? Where is her daughter? The last postcard she received from Marilyn was from Panama City. It confirmed that Marilyn and Maurice left the port of Balboa on February 28th. But Susan hasn't received a single postcard since.

She can no longer deny it. Her daughter never arrived in the Galapagos. Susan knows that's her friend Mary calling. Susan didn't pick up the phone the last time Mary called, so Mary came over and scolded her for making her worry. She had better answer at this time. Susan pushes herself up off the floor and shuffles towards the hallway. Yes? Yes, this is Susan.

Susan puts her hand down on the hallway table for support. Her knees are weak. It's a foreign voice with an accent she can't quite place, asking if she's related to someone named Mary Bailey. Marilyn Bailey? Yes, that's my daughter. Please tell me she's alive. The voice on the other line sounds like it's coming from very far away. Susan's hands shake. Her lips tremble.

and there's an enormous lump in her throat. Then, she finally lets go and breaks down sobbing. Marilyn stands on the deck of the Woolme 306 as it sails into Honolulu Harbor. She wonders what it will be like to have Earth under her feet again. She and Maurice have been aboard the Korean fishing vessel for almost two weeks. The cook has done a great job feeding them, bringing a little more food to their cabin each day.

The ship's engineer, who had some medical training, brought them daily vitamins and anti-inflammatory pills and dressed their sores. Marilyn and Marie slept through the first few days after their rescue, only waking up to eat or take their pills. Their joints were so stiff that they could hardly move anyway. After their first walking exercises, their legs and feet swelled up so much that they decided to take it slowly.

They were left alone to rest for the first three days. But from the fourth day onwards, their cabin was swarming with visitors. Everyone in the crew wanted to know how they had managed to survive for so long. Marilyn still feels overcome by the warmth the crew has shown them. She and Maurice have been constantly presented with gifts. Toothpaste, clothes, chocolate and cookies, even cosmetics for Marilyn.

The Stalers had purchased many of these things in the Canary Islands as souvenirs for their families and friends, but they voluntarily gave them up. One of them even gave Maurice his belt because Maurice's pants, which were also a gift, kept slipping off his hips.

The crew wanted the Baileys to travel with them to Busan, in their native country. But the Korean shipping company decided that the shipwrecked passengers needed to be medically examined as soon as possible, and that the captain should head for the nearest possible port. Marilyn stares at the coastal landscape again. Honolulu is now right in front of her. The mountains rising behind it look impossibly lush and green.

Maurice, who's been standing next to her for some time now, takes her hand. Ready? I don't know. Are you? It won't be so bad. Mr. Suh warned them. The news that a British couple survived for almost four months on the Pacific Ocean on two small rubber boats has become a global sensation. While still on board, the Baileys received numerous telegrams and interview requests from all over the world.

Finally, the Wulmi docks at a pier in Honolulu Harbor. Marilyn squeezes her husband's hand before letting go. The only thing between her and dry land is a rickety wooden gangway. She hesitates. This is the first land she will set foot on after almost four and a half months at sea. Marilyn takes a step forward onto the gangway.

The sandals she was given are too big, and she holds tightly onto the railing, trying not to fall. There are people and cameras everywhere in front of her. Captain Suh is close behind her, followed by Maurice. Despite how skinny he is, Marilyn thinks Maurice looks quite distinguished in his white shirt and long pants. It's just his gaunt face, now clean-shaven, that betrays the toll this experience has taken on them.

Then, Marilyn feels the pavement beneath her feet. They're finally on land. But before she can really enjoy the moment, she's bombarded with questions from reporters. Marilyn smiles shyly as cameras snap away. She looks back at Maurice, who's grinning broadly. She's happy to see him looking so confident again. Marilyn is glad to be back in civilization, even if everything still seems very strange.

She feels safe, but also a little wistful. As bad as it was, she'll miss her life at sea. Marilyn and Maurice Bailey drifted over 1,500 miles across the Pacific Ocean until they were rescued on June 30th, 1973. In the hospital, Maurice was diagnosed with thrombosis, as well as a severe ear infection, which left him nearly deaf in one ear.

He also suffered a blood clot in his lungs, which caused irreversible damage, giving him breathing problems until the end of his life. Marilyn had no health problems, apart from the sores on her legs and buttocks. One year after their ordeal, the Baileys were back at sea in a new yacht, which they named Aurelin II. After their rescue, the Baileys wrote a book entitled "117 Days Adrift,"

They had actually survived 118 days on the Pacific, but it was originally misreported that their rescue had happened one day earlier, and the publisher decided to stick with the incorrect number. After Marilyn died of cancer in 2002, Maurice led a solitary life. In 2016, two years before his death, he gave a very personal interview to a filmmaker.

When asked if he would want to go through the same experience again, he replied, Marie said that without Marilyn's strength, he didn't think they would have made it, telling the filmmaker,

we wouldn't have been able to survive. It's just that Marilyn was able to sustain the will to live. This was the third and final episode of our series, Adrift in the Pacific. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we highly recommend the book, 117 Days Adrift by Maurice and Marilyn Bailey.

I'm your host, Cassie DePeckel. Kira Funk wrote this episode. Translated by Sharmila Cohen for Monk Studios. Sound design by Rob Shielaga. Audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Coordinating producer is Desi Blaylock.

Welcome to the Offensive Line. You guys, on this podcast, we're going to make some picks, talk some s**t, and hopefully make you some money in the process. I'm your host, Annie Agar.

So here's how this show is going to work, okay? We're going to run through the weekly slate of NFL and college football matchups, breaking them down into very serious categories like No offense. No offense, Travis Kelsey, but you got to step up your game if Pat Mahomes is saying the Chiefs need to have more fun this year. We're also handing out a series of awards and making picks for the top storylines surrounding the world of football. Awards like the He May Have a Point Award for the wide receiver that's most justifiably bitter.

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