BC Cook
“BLOOD from my fingers and wrists oozed out into the water. That, I suppose, is what attracted the shark.”
“I calculated the chances against me as, conservatively, a million to one.”
As Ted Sierks plowed through the seas, racing between Los Angeles and Honolulu, he made the dreadful mistake that many sailors have made. He was not tied off properly, and when he leaned over the rail a wave tipped the vessel and in he went.
There were other crew members on the boat and there were other boats in the area. In fact, that patch of ocean was full of vessels because there was a race on. So, this should not have been too great a crisis.
Perhaps that is why Ted did not worry too much about his safety gear. But for some reason, as the distress call went out and boats searched for the man overboard not even his own boat spotted him as he drifted away with the current. Incredibly, six yachts, eight naval ships including an aircraft carrier, and even some aircraft failed to spot the man in the water.
He had little gear with him, just a life preserver and a knife. He quickly jettisoned his boots and pants since they provided little thermal protection but weighed him down. His wool underwear certainly earned its keep, helping him stay warm in the frigid waters.
Then the sharks came. The first one struck from below, lunging toward his feet as he just managed to pull them away. The shark circled and made another attack, but Ted was ready. As the beast made his move Ted lunged at him with his knife, burying it deep in his back. The shark thrashed and as he rolled over Ted stabbed him in the belly. The shark was finished, but now the great amount of blood in the water would certainly attract other sharks. Ted swam away to put distance between himself and the fatally wounded creature.
The cold worked on his frail body. The psychological effect of sharing water with sharks wore him down. He thought about mistakes he made in life, time wasted, how he was ruining the yacht race for the other sailors. He often thought about slipping below the waves and giving up the fight, but he always came to his senses when he thought about being eaten. He would not give himself to the sharks, he told himself.
It is hard to tell which was worse, the sharks or the maddening search effort that kept coming close to Ted but never finding him. He saw searchlights sweeping the sea about a mile away but they never got closer. He saw parachute flares in the distance but always too far to reveal him in the inky depths. Twice a boat came within two hundred yards of him and kept moving, unaware how close they came to their objective.
The sharks returned, this time a pair. He slashed at one with the knife, then thought to use a metal piece attached to the life preserver. The shark went for Ted’s leg but bit down on a metal ring instead, quite a rude shock for the animal. Those two kept their distance after that.
Thirty-one hours after Ted went into the ocean the Navy called off the search. It was impossible, they said, for anyone to stay alive in those waters longer than that. On their way back to port, a captain offered a $50 reward to anybody who spotted the doomed man. Maybe that is why the sailor kept at his post, kept a sharp eye. Fifty dollars was on the line and he collected. On that last trip back to port a sailor spotted Ted and pulled him from oblivion.
For a while Ted Sierks was a celebrity. His story was printed in Life magazine in 1951. The article was titled, “Don’t give up, you weakling!, something Ted told himself often as he drifted in the Pacific. He donated the money he made on the article to the sailors who rescued him.
BC Cook, PhD lived on Saipan and has taught history for thirty years. He is a director and historian at Sealark Exploration (sealarkexploration.org).
