I was one of the lucky one. When the wave overturned the open boat, I remembered the drill to kick of my boots, discard my hat, stuff my glasses into my pocket, and then swim until I found a float of some description.
Attached to a log, I eventually washed up on a Caribbean beach, much to the surprise of two women sunbathing in 1960s bikinis.
In the heat, I walked to the nearest resort village in search of a taxi driver who would take me home.
It was a great relief to have survived the wreck, but I worried about my friend JC and colleague GW. There was bound to some sort of enquiry since none of us had been wearing (nor were even offered) life jackets.