Adrift in the Pacific | The Sinking | 1
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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.

Maurice Bailey clings to the edge of an inflatable life raft. His emaciated body chafes against the sagging, wet surface. Next to him is an air pump, which he's just used to pump more air into the vessel. If he doesn't keep pumping like this, the circular rubber raft would have sunk long ago. Across from him, his wife Marilyn uses a small plastic bowl to bail water from the raft.

It's June 5th, 1973. For days now, a storm has had them in its clutches. For days, they've had almost nothing to eat. And for almost three months, they've been adrift like this, stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean after their sailboat sank. All around them, waves roll across the surface of the raging sea. Long, gray crests driven by fierce gusts of wind.

The storm waves break violently over each other again and again. Torrential rain pours down on their tiny raft amid bursts of lightning. Maurice turns to his wife. I'm going fishing. Now? In this weather? We need something to eat. I have to try. No, let's just wait. Maurice, don't. But Maurice is already climbing into the rubber dinghy tethered to their life raft.

On the tumultuous sea, the boats keep bumping into each other, like two corks tied together. Maurice tries to steady himself, pressing against the seat of the boat with all his remaining strength. He holds a makeshift fishing rod out over the water. He turns to give Marilyn an encouraging smile and freezes. Behind her, an enormous wall of water is rising up.

It's a rogue wave, and it's coming right at them. Maurice starts to scream, but his voice is swallowed by the roar of the water. He can only watch as the life raft and his wife are swept up by the wave, which lifts them up towards the sky. In the next moment, the massive wave comes crashing down on Maurice.

A cold surge of water slams against his body and presses him against the bottom of the inflatable boat with full force. Then he's underwater, sinking into the endless depths of the sea. For a moment, Maurice closes his eyes and thinks about letting go. It would be so easy. Just open his mouth, let the water fill his lungs, and this long nightmare will be over.

No more endless struggle for survival. He could finally be at peace. But then an image of Marilyn appears before him in his mind. He pictures her taking his face in both hands and pressing her nose to his, the way she likes to. He can see her two birthmarks, one on each cheek. Maurice's eyes fly open and he starts swimming.

He has to make it back to the surface somehow, back to his wife. He has to keep going for her. In our fast-paced, screen-filled world, it can be all too easy to lose that sense of imagination and wonder.

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Progressive Casualty Insurance Company & Affiliates. Comparison rates not available in all states or situations. Prices vary based on how you buy. From Wondery, I'm Cassie DePeckel, and this is Against the Odds. In 1972, Marilyn and Maurice Bailey decided to abandon their quiet suburban life in England and set sail for New Zealand in a 30-foot sailing yacht.

But nine months into their journey, a whale struck their yacht, causing it to sink. Marilyn and Maurice found themselves stranded on a life raft in the Pacific Ocean, 350 miles from the nearest land, with no idea when or if they would be rescued. This is episode one, The Sinking. It's November 1966, early evening in Derby, a small town in central England.

Maurice Bailey is sitting in his living room in a big, comfy green armchair, absorbed in a novel. He looks up when he hears a loud sigh from his wife, Marilyn. She's sitting by the window, staring out at the lamplit street in front of their house. With another sigh, she wraps her cozy wool cardigan a little tighter around her body. Raindrops stream down the window, obscuring her view of the outside world.

But to Maurice, it seems as if Marilyn isn't actually looking at the street. It's as if she doesn't even see the people with their black umbrellas running frantically along the sidewalk. He wonders what's on her mind. Lately, he's been getting the sense that something's bothering her.

The Baileys have been married for three years now. And sometimes, Maurice still can't understand why, of all our suitors, Marilyn chose him. She's eight years younger than him, in her mid-twenties, with long, dark hair and round cheeks, beautiful and full of life. As he's staring at her, she abruptly turns towards him. There's a gleam in her eye. What if we sell our house, use the money to buy a yacht, and live on it?

Maurice looks at her, bewildered. Sure, they've talked about how the monotonous life of the British suburbs isn't for them. They get out into nature as often as they can. Just recently, they went camping in Scotland. But to fully uproot themselves and live on the sea? That's really going too far for Maurice. He shakes his head.

No, that's completely ridiculous. You haven't even bothered to think about it. You want me to think about giving up our entire lives here? Would that really be so bad? With that, Marilyn storms out, leaving her husband sitting alone in the living room. Maurice watches her go, still shaking his head.

He would love to fulfill her every wish, but this idea is crazy. And even if he wanted to go to give up their lives here, how would they afford it? With his job at the local print shop, he brings in a lower middle-class income at best, and a yacht would cost a fortune. Maurice's eyes drift towards the window. He finds himself considering Marilyn's idea, life on a boat, just the two of them.

It does sound appealing. He certainly wouldn't miss the people at work, who are all so stuffy and set in their ways. A new, freer life. With Marilyn. Could that really be possible? Murray sighs and shakes his head. No. The whole idea is completely absurd. He gets up and turns on the TV, then drops back into his comfy armchair and tries to concentrate on the evening news.

Marilyn wipes her hands on her apron, then reaches into the cabinet above the sink and pulls out two large plates. An appetizing aroma fills the room. On the stove in front of her, two pieces of cod sizzle in hot oil. She's making fish and chips, Maurice's favorite meal, and she's got an ulterior motive for making it.

Marilyn came home from work a little early today. Her job at the tax office bores her. In fact, her whole life bores her. She wants a new experience, and she has chosen tonight to get one step closer to her goal. Maurice pokes his head into the kitchen. His black hair is combed with a deep side part. It's been thinning more and more, but Marilyn doesn't care.

she still finds Maurice wildly attractive. What's for dinner? Your favorite. Sit down. It's almost ready. Maurice sits down at the dining table, and Marilyn steps out of the kitchen, gracefully balancing two steaming hot plates of food in her hands. She places one of them in front of Maurice. The fried fish is golden brown and crispy. She sits down and nervously taps her foot as Maurice takes the first bite.

Without waiting for him to answer, she tells him about her plan to get their own seaworthy yacht and sail west across the Atlantic and then the Pacific all the way to New Zealand.

Maurice wipes his mouth with a napkin. He makes no move to speak. So Marilyn continues, presenting him with one argument after another. Once she has said her piece, she reaches across the dining table for Maurice's hand and looks at him, eagerly awaiting a response. But he abruptly pulls his hand away and stands up. He goes over to the old wooden secretary desk in the hallway, opens a drawer, and starts rummaging around in it,

Marilyn frowns. It's hard for her to gauge whether her husband is considering her plea to make such a life-changing decision, or if he's tuning her out. Then Maurice returns. He sits down, puts a notebook on the table, and opens it to a blank page. Marilyn watches as he starts to write. Cons. One, we can't sail. Two, we can't sail.

We don't have any money, which means three, we'd have to sell the house. And come up with a savings plan? Right. Four, start a budget. And five, leave all our family and friends behind. Marilyn knows that he wrote the last point down mainly for her sake. He has no family. He broke off contact with his parents long ago. But Marilyn is very close to her mother and father.

Even so, she's made it clear that she is willing to make this sacrifice. Maurice makes another column on the page for the pros list. He writes down only two things. The first, freedom, and the second, nature. Then he places his pen on the table and folds his hands in his lap. Marilyn can see he's actually considering the idea.

You can see the pros far outweigh the cons. They do, but our yacht has to be big enough for us to make a real home out of it. Marilyn nearly jumps out of her chair with excitement. Yes, of course. We'll get the perfect yacht. And it has to have high enough ceilings. I want to be able to stand up inside it. Marilyn is beaming with joy. The decision is made.

Now it's her turn to make a list, a to-do list. At the top of it, find a sailing school. The sailing instructor stands on a pier, looking out onto the water. There are several small sailboats floating in front of him, but he has his eye on one in particular, the one carrying the Baileys. Ever since he heard about Maurice and Marilyn's ambitious plan, he feels responsible for them.

It's May 1967, at a small sailing school on a lake not far from the town of Derby. The instructor has a lot of respect for what the Baileys are trying to do, but he's also skeptical. Sailing a two-person yacht all the way across the Atlantic and then across the Pacific requires not only skill, but also experience. And the Baileys have neither. The instructor reaches for his megaphone.

The wind is strong today and still picking up. The risk of capsizing is high, especially for beginners. "Ease the sails, quickly!" He wants all his students to loosen the lines that keep the sail taut. This is to prevent the wind from pushing the boats with so much force. One boat after another follows his instructions. The Baileys are the only ones whose sail is still taut against the wind.

Their boat is already leaning at a dangerous angle, and the instructor can't see what the problem might be, even with binoculars. He puts the megaphone to his lips again. "Hey, Bailey's! Ease the sheet now! Loosen the ropes! You've got to let off the sail!" "What the hell are they doing?" But it's too late. Marilyn and Maurice have completely capsized. Their heads pop out above the surface of the water, one, then the other.

It's a funny sight, but he suppresses any impulse to laugh. Instead, he holds the megaphone up to his lips and explains step by step how to right their boat. When the Baileys have finally gotten their boat upright and arrive back to the dock, he takes them aside. Look, I admire your ambition, but you're a long way from being ready for the ocean.

And remember, if you don't pass every single exam with flying colors, I won't be able to give you a sailing license. The instructor decides then and there he's going to be extra tough on this eccentric young couple and make sure they're really ready for the perils of the open ocean. He'd rather be the killjoy now than to spend the rest of his life feeling guilty.

The image of Marilyn and Maurice capsizing in the ocean instead of here on the calm lake is something he doesn't want to think about. Maurice steers their old green Ford off a winding road towards the town of Plymouth on the south coast of England. Beside him in the passenger seat, Marilyn can barely sit still. She's so excited. They're about to visit a shipyard to pick up their brand new sailing yacht.

Maurice adjusts his sailor's cap. He's wearing it for the first time today. Their sailing instructor kept his word and pushed them harder than anyone else. But in the end, they did it. They're officially licensed sailors. It's spring of 1968, a year since they began taking sailing lessons. Since then, they've sold their house in Derby and moved to the coast.

After they got settled, Maurice took on several jobs and put every penny aside for their yacht. They had it built entirely to their specifications, which was still cheaper than refitting an existing yacht to suit their needs. Maurice pulls into the small shipyard parking lot. Marilyn immediately gets out and walks toward the dock. The people at the shipyard had been expecting them. An employee is already there, standing next to a shiny white yacht.

Here she is! I think we were able to deliver on all your most important requests. 31 feet long, moderate draft, full standing headroom, and plenty of beam. And as you can see, the distance between the waterline and the top of the hull is particularly high, so you have more stability. A lot would have to go wrong for this yacht to capsize.

Maurice has never been so proud. They have their own little sailing yacht now, but he's also nervous. This means things are going to get serious. Soon, they'll be out on the open sea and completely on their own. Marilyn stands on the deck of their yacht and looks across Southampton Harbor. All around, other yachts and small ships sway gently in the wind as the water sloshes against their hulls.

It's late June 1972. Marilyn and Maurice decided to name their yacht the Oralin, a combination of Marilyn and Maurice. Maurice is standing on the deck next to her. They're both wearing the same dark blue sailor sweater with a white shirt underneath. The white collar makes them look like real sailors, she thinks. Their sailing skills are rusty. More than two years have passed since they got their license and bought the yacht.

They had to delay their departure twice. First, when Marilyn's father fell ill and eventually died. And then the second time, when Marilyn needed to get treated for early-onset arthritis. The delays have made Marilyn even more impatient to get going. But her mother, Susan, couldn't have been happier. Now, Susan stands on the dock of the small harbor and takes a photo of her daughter and son-in-law.

Marilyn looks confidently into the camera, but behind her smile, she's feeling wistful. She hops over the railing and takes the camera from her mother, then promises, once again, that she will write as often as possible. "I'll be sure to send a postcard from every port." "You say that as if it's too much to ask." "No, Mom, I promise. Sailor's honor." Marilyn wraps her arms around her mother and squeezes her for a long time.

Tears run down their cheeks. Maurice also hugs his mother-in-law and promises her that he'll take good care of Marilyn. Then they step aboard Aureline. The time has come. Maurice weighs anchor. Marilyn gets the sails in position, and they cast off. Marilyn runs to Aureline's pointed bow. As their yacht sails gracefully toward the English Channel, she takes a deep breath.

A new life awaits her on this journey, a new beginning. From now on, it's full speed ahead. Maurice Bailey stands at the helm of the Oralyn. He looks out onto the horizon, completely focused but smiling. It's late July 1972, just under four weeks since he and his wife Marilyn set out from Southampton, England for their voyage around the world.

Sailing this boat, Maurice feels a confidence he's never known before, a feeling of independence. At the same time, he wonders how much of their success he can really attribute to his abilities and how much Aureline does on her own. She's so well-built, she practically sails herself, and they've been incredibly lucky with the weather so far. Nothing but hours of sunshine. At this point, they're still just fair weather sailors.

But that could change soon. According to the latest forecasts, a storm is heading their way. Maurice is almost looking forward to it. He wants the chance to prove himself. He smiles at the thought. Without Marilyn, he would never have mustered the self-confidence to take this voyage. And yet now, here he is, ready to tackle whatever the sea throws their way.

They have been sailing the Atlantic for just under four weeks, traveling down the coast of Europe. There's a lot of traffic in this region, and the risk of a collision with one of the many huge container ships is enormous. So even though Maurice is having fun at the yacht's helm, he also takes his job very seriously. He feels responsible for Marilyn's safety. He doesn't want to make a mistake and put her in danger.

Maurice checks their location. The compass points south, right on course for their next stop, the islands of Madeira. He hears Marilyn laugh and looks up to see her prancing toward him on her tiptoes, pretending to salsa dance with the mast. The sails billow high above her head. Maurice smiles. Ever since they departed, Marilyn has been so happy and full of energy. Maurice has never felt more in love with her.

Once she's made her way to him, Marilyn hugs him from behind. Maurice closes his eyes for a moment. She snuggles up to him, her mouth close to his right ear. "How about a croissant?" "Oh yes, with orange marmalade." "I'll put the coffee on." Just before leaving the port of Lisbon, their last stopover, Marilyn had 10 Portuguese croissants packed up for them at a cute little bakery. There are now exactly two left.

Soon, Maurice's nostrils are filled with the scent of hot coffee. Then, moments later, he feels a raindrop land on his nose. The time has come. Their first storm.

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As the wind howls across the ocean, it throws the yacht into a perilous tilt. Marilyn stands on the deck, the hood of her yellow raincoat tied tightly around her face. She tries to hang on to the mast as a big storm wave crashes over her, but it knocks her off her feet. She slides forward and hits the railing with full force. She and Maurice barely had a chance to prepare for the sudden change in weather.

There was just enough time to reduce the engine speed so that the yacht would be more stable and then put on their rain gear. Now, Marilyn clings to the railing with both hands as the rain whips her face. Again and again, she thinks of their sailing instructor's words: "The higher the waves and the smaller the boat, the greater the danger of capsizing." She's grateful they had those two additional bilge keels fitted to Aurelin's hull.

The keels are narrow fins that stick down into the water and give the yacht more weight and stability. Without them, Oralyn would be tilting even more violently in the storm's waves. She feels Maurice grab her from behind. He's put on his life jacket and secured himself to the deck with a rope and a carabiner and wants her to do the same.

This way, no matter what happens, they won't go overboard. Now, they need to get the Oralin storm-ready as quickly as possible. Okay, I'll get the trysail. You tie down the mainsail. Aye, aye. You've deployed the drone? Yes, it's out. Marilyn takes a deep breath and lets go of the railing. She heads toward the storage chest, where their storm sail, known as the trysail, is safely stowed.

She and Maurice pull the sturdy little sail up onto the mast and tighten it as best they can. They feel its effect immediately. The aureolin sways a little less in the fierce wind, but the next storm wave is already rolling ferociously toward them. The same thought runs through Marilyn's head over and over again. They're going to make it. They'll get through their first storm.

An hour later, Marilyn sees the first rays of sunlight peeking out from behind the heavy clouds on the horizon. They did make it. The storm is passing, but Marilyn knows this was only a preview of what's to come. Maurice Bailey steps back, paintbrush in hand, and examines his work. He's just finished giving Orlin a fresh coat of paint, and he's happy with the results.

It's February 25th, 1973, and the Baileys are moored in the port of Balboa in Panama. They've been traveling for more than half a year. And today, Maurice is excited. Balboa isn't just any port. It's on the Pacific side of the Panama Canal. Many brave men and women have sailed out of this port and onto the largest ocean in the world. Tomorrow, he and Marilyn will join their ranks.

They've been here in Panama City for several days, making final arrangements. Everything has to be perfect before they leave. They've repaired and touched up a few things here and there, and given Orlin a full safety inspection. They're confident that she's ready to perform every maneuver necessary on the open ocean. Today, the yacht has been impatiently tugging on the anchor, almost like she knows they're about to depart.

Maurice feels sure that their sailing instructor would be proud of them. They made it across the Atlantic to the Caribbean, and then through the Panama Canal without any major issues. Their next stop is the Galapagos Islands, about 1,500 miles from here. Maurice starts putting away his painting supplies. Then he looks up to the deck, where Marilyn stands with a paintbrush, putting some finishing touches on the trim.

She's wearing shorts and a bikini top under a loose button-down shirt. He blows her a kiss. "I'm going into town for some last groceries. Any requests?" "Oh, yes! Some grapefruit, please. And don't forget the postcard for my mom." "Oh, of course. Where is it?" "On the table inside." Maurice grabs the postcard and puts it in his shirt pocket.

Then he hops down onto the dock and strolls across the pier to the small yellow mailbox in the harbor parking lot. Marilyn has kept her word and sent a postcard to her mother from every port. In fact, this is the third postcard they've sent to Susan from Panama City alone. Maurice added a little note of his own on this one, sending his love.

His mother-in-law is such a kind woman, and he, of all people, understands how much she must miss Marilyn. After he mails the postcard, he walks to a nearby fruit stand. Today's shopping list includes fresh bananas, a pound of dried dates, and of course, a whole bag of grapefruits. Maurice pays and makes his way back with a bag full of fruit in each hand. That's when he realizes that this was their last shopping trip.

at least until they reach their next stop in the Galapagos Islands. But he's not worried. The provisions they have on board are enough to last them for nine months. No matter what happens, Maurice thinks, at least they won't go hungry. Marilyn sits cross-legged on the deck of their new friend's yacht. They met Sheila and Neville in Barbados and had made a plan to connect again here in Panama.

Now, they're all enjoying one last evening of camaraderie before Maurice and Marilyn set sail tomorrow. Marilyn laughs at one of Neville's jokes, then takes a sip from her cocktail glass.

She's trying to act relaxed, but her mind is racing, going through mental checklists. Do they have sufficient fuel with them in case there isn't enough wind and they're forced to use the engine? Is all the equipment in order? And the backup supplies, if anything breaks along the way? Marilyn has to admit that the Pacific crossing scares her.

She's had a strange feeling in her gut about it ever since they left Barbados. It had gotten so bad that she even asked Maurice whether it might be better to just end the trip here in Panama City. They could go back to England, build a bigger yacht, and then sail again in two years. But Maurice wouldn't hear of it. Ever since they set sail almost eight months ago, her husband seems happier and more confident every day.

So she's been trying to push her doubts aside. But not before having Maurice test the life raft again. The last time it was out on the water was in the English Channel. As expected, everything was fine. But Marilyn added an extra repair kit to their supplies, just in case.

Sheila pulls Marilyn out of her thoughts. At night, you really have to be careful not to get rammed by some container ship. That happens to smaller vessels way too often. Neville waves away her concern. Honey, they both know that already. Alternating night watches are an absolute must, especially on the Panama route. Yeah, of course. I know they know that. I just want to make sure they stay safe.

Sheila grins at Marilyn and Maurice. We'll see you in the Galapagos then. Marilyn smiles and makes a toast. To new friends and new adventures. Before Marilyn takes the last sip of her cocktail, she says a silent toast just to herself. And here's to everything going smoothly.

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Every now and then, white sea spray splashes onto the deck, right where Marilyn is sitting. It's February 28th, 1973, two days since they left port in Panama. Marilyn is hunched over her journal, with her knees pulled up to her chest. It's hot out, and she's enjoying the cool spray of the salt water, even as she tries to keep the pages of her journal dry.

She has her hair tied up in a colorful scarf that she bought at a market in Panama City, and she thinks she looks great in it. As she writes, she glances over at Maurice. He's hanging their laundry along the bow, whistling a song. The sheets dance in the wind. He looks at her and smiles. Now this is sailing, isn't it? We haven't seen a single ship all day.

It's true. It feels like they're the only two people on the entire ocean right now. Marilyn loves the solitude out at sea, but she's also looking forward to spending a few evenings with Sheila and Neville when they reach the Galapagos and adding another port to the list, which Maurice can then enter in their logbook. Marilyn squints at something in the water. A group of dolphins is swimming about 150 feet away from them,

The Pacific Ocean seems particularly blue and peaceful today. On the inside, however, she feels anything but peaceful. She is restless. She has an urge to write about this strange feeling. But instead, she just adds one more sentence in her journal for the day. Only about 400 miles to go before we reach the Galapagos Islands. Then a wave splashes over the bow, soaking Marilyn in her journal.

She frowns as the ink runs down the page, leaving the words barely legible. From Aurelin's bow, Maurice gazes up at the stars shining brightly in the clear night sky. It's past 3:00 a.m. on March 4th, and the Aurelin is on autopilot. Marilyn is asleep, and Maurice is keeping watch. They had a steady southeast wind today and were able to raise all the sails for the first time since they left the Atlantic.

Then, Maurice sees something shiny in the distance. He squints, trying to make out what it might be. Maybe it's a container ship? He lifts the binoculars, hanging around his neck up to his eyes. It looks like a large, well-lit commercial fishing boat. A trawler of some kind. And there's a motorboat with a searchlight circling it. The round cone of the light flickers across the surface of the sea, as if scanning for something.

The beam of the searchlight briefly flits across the sails of the Oralman. Maurice goes over to the stern and increases their speed by a few knots. When they're far enough away from the two vessels, he wakes up Marilyn. It's four o'clock. Time for a shift change. Completely exhausted, Maurice flops down into their cozy oak-paneled bunk. To his left is the sink and stove.

Behind him is the bathroom, and further to the front is a small sitting area. Their home just has the basics, but Maurice can't think of anything he misses. He pulls the blanket a little tighter around himself. It always gets chilly at night. When he closes his eyes, he can still see the glare of the spotlight flitting across the dark ocean. As he drifts off to sleep, he wonders what they were looking for.

Marilyn turns off the stove and pours fresh coffee into her mug. It's 7 a.m. on March 4th, 1973. The sun is just rising above the horizon, casting a golden orange light across the calm oceans.

Every morning, she and Maurice spend a full hour on deck together having breakfast. Marilyn loves this ritual. She turns to Maurice. He is still fast asleep, so she leans over and strokes his arm gently. Good morning, darling. It's seven. Good morning. Bring a mug for yourself when you come up. Marilyn grabs a tray with the coffee and some fruit and starts walking up the stairs onto the deck.

Suddenly, she feels a jolt and falls backwards. She cries out, dropping the tray and is just barely able to grab hold of the narrow banister beside the staircase. Their belongings fly wildly through the space. Plates, books, clothes.

Panicked, Marilyn turns to Maurice, who has been thrown from the bed and is now lying on the floor. Are you okay? What the hell was that? I don't know, but it sounds like we hit something. I'll go see. Marilyn rushes up the stairs and gasps at what she sees. She calls down to Maurice. It's a whale! A giant sperm whale! And it's bleeding! Marilyn can't believe what she's looking at.

The whale is as big as a bus, probably about 40 feet long, bigger than their yacht. It looks powerful enough to demolish the aureolin with just a single flick of its tail. Right now, that tail is thrashing around wildly. A pool of red has formed around the creature and is growing by the second, its blood. Under the rising morning sun, it shimmers ominously on the surface of the sea. Maurice joins her on the deck,

And together, they stare down at the wounded whale, transfixed. It's so close that Marilyn can make out the countless white spots and scratches on its dark gray skin. She turns to Maurice. Do you think we heard it that badly? I doubt it, but now I wonder if that ship we saw last night was a whaler.

They could have harpooned it and let it get away. That's awful. Poor creature. It must be in so much pain. Yes, but forget about the whale now. We have to go check and see what it did to the boat. Terrified, Marilyn looks at her husband, then runs down to the cabin as fast as she can. To her horror, the cabin is filling with water. It's already up to her ankles.

Marilyn realizes that the whale must have punctured the hull somewhere. And if they can't stop the leak soon, they're going to sink. Everything inside Maurice tenses up. This can't be happening. The brown oak floor of the Orlin is several inches underwater. Marilyn throws open the doors of their equipment locker, looking for the water pump. Maurice drops to his knees. Where is the breach?

Then he sees it. Portside, on the left, behind the galley. A huge gash about 18 inches long and 12 inches wide. It's below the waterline. And now, seawater is rushing in unstoppably, right into their little home. Maurice tries to think. The hole is much too big to block it with anything from the inside. But maybe there's another way.

He turns to Marilyn, who's begun pumping out water, but not fast enough to keep it from rising. "We have to try to seal the leak from the outside. We can use a sail, like a bandage." "Should I leave the pump for now?" "Yes. I won't be able to get it taut from both sides by myself. Come on, hurry!" In a single bound, Maurice is back on deck. He first checks to make sure that the oralin remains on course, at two to three knots. Then he turns to Marilyn.

She's already positioned under the mast, lowering the front sail. Okay, here we go. Reef the head sail, just like we practiced. While Marilyn works, Maurice grabs a spare sail from a storage locker, a smaller sail called a jib sheet. He clips it to a corner of the head sail and lowers the sheet over the bow and into the water, down to the gaping hole on the left side of the hull.

Maurice uses a rope attached to the jib sheet to pull one end of the sheet under the boat and then up the starboard side. As the sheet wraps around the hull, it goes taut. The auralin looks like it's wearing a bandage around its underside. Maurice runs back and forth, trying to pull the makeshift bandage tight enough from both sides to really seal the leak, but it's no use. Water is still rushing into the cabin below deck.

Why isn't the sheet working? Then Maurice remembers. The bilge keels. He had them custom installed to keep the yacht stable and prevent it from capsizing. But they stick out from either side of the hull, like fins, making it impossible for the sheet to form a tight seal over the leak.

Marilyn has already run back down into the cabin. Realizing there's nothing else he can do, Maurice runs after her. When he gets down to the cabin, he also grabs a pump. Frantically, they both start pumping water out of the cabin. After less than 10 minutes, Marilyn is completely out of breath. It's not making any difference. The damn bilge keels are between the sail and the hull. We'll never get it properly sealed. What are we going to do?

Maurice keeps pumping. We have to grab our emergency supplies and get off the boat before it sinks. But we can't give up on the Orlin yet. We could try to plug the hole with blankets. In desperation, Maurice and Marilyn press blankets and pillows into the hole from the inside. But the water continues to pour in. Maurice can tell by the look of panic on Marilyn's face that she can't believe what's happening. But there's no denying it now.

Their beloved Orlin is going to sink. The water is now up to their knees, and the reality hits Maurice like a ton of bricks. They're going to have to abandon ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. This is episode one of our three-part 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 from Monk Studios. Sound design by Rob Shielaga. Audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Coordinating producer is Desi Blaylock. Produced by Alita Rozanski and Emily Frost. Managing producer is Matt Gantt.

Senior Managing Producer is Ryan Lohr. Senior Producer is Andy Herman. Executive Producers are Jenny Lara Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marsha Louis. For Wondery. This is the emergency broadcast system. A ballistic missile threat has been detected inbound to your area. Your phone buzzes and you look down to find this alert. What do you do next? Maybe you're at the grocery store. Or maybe you're with your secret lover. Or maybe you're robbing a bank.

Based on the real-life false alarm that terrified Hawaii in 2018, Incoming, a brand-new fiction podcast exclusively on Wondery Plus, follows the journey of a variety of characters as they confront the unimaginable. The missiles are coming. What am I supposed to do? Featuring incredible performances from Tracy Letts, Mary Lou Henner, Mary Elizabeth Ellis, Paul Edelstein, and many, many more, Incoming is a hilariously thrilling podcast that will leave you wondering, how would you spend your last few minutes on Earth? ♪

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