The Sinking of the Oceánica

Image by stokpic from Pixabay

“See, what you don't do in an emergency as a captain is command a course that cuts a corner of the Bermuda Triangle.”

“Well, remember, the captain and crew hadn't had their coffee that morning either. We need to cut them a little slack.”

So said the first two news commentators as they prepared their story about the tragic sinking of the cruise ship Oceánica.

Captain Outerbridge was actually from Bermuda, but had a grandmother from an island inside the Triangle which had no name, but grew some of the best coffee in the world. This he remembered, and this is why he had changed his ship's course, mid-cruise.

The year was 2022. Many passengers had been denied their traveling amusements by Covid for two years, while the threat aboard cruise ships was not quite gone – people were already on edge, and skirting a hurricane had not helped anyone's nerves. The extra six days of sailing had been accounted for in the coffee supplies, but not the extra coffee drinking on top of that.

Covid, a storm, and lack of coffee – the combination proved to be too much for the passengers' goodwill the following morning, for it was assumed that the captain and crew had still had their coffee. Lack of tips, rude language, phones being thrown at walls and people because of course, that far off shore, one could not rant to the Internet – it was all there on day 1.

In reality, the captain and crew of the Oceánica had given up their coffee the day before, in order to serve the passengers. The captain commended his crew hourly for their discipline in the face of the passengers' mounting anger, and for buying the ship a day's time to change course to the home of his grandmother.

On day 2, someone who was quietly using the caffeine from coffee to control their asthma instead of regular prescription medicine had a coughing fit on deck. This created an absolute panic on the Oceánica, with people jumping off the ship in an attempt to get to the distant shore. Only Captain Outerbridge's four-times-per-hour reassurance of everyone having tested negative before getting on board was able to quell the panic by the late afternoon so that the ship's rescues could wind up before sundown. Captain Outerbridge gave up his quarters to the gentleman with asthma to keep him safe from the other passengers (while calling it “quarantine” officially), and just slept on the deck of the wheelhouse.

On days 1 and 2, petty crimes of annoyance had begun among the passengers, but the first serious assault occurred on the morning of day 3. Captain Outerbridge improvised a brig and had the injured man taken to the ship's hospital, but he knew he did not have room on board for many more such occurrences. The hospital already was near capacity from people botching their attempts to get off the 300-foot-tall ship.

But, on day 3, salvation appeared to be in sight: the isle of coffee appeared over the horizon.

Alas, it was a mirage.

When the mixed Native and African populations of the Caribbean had reclaimed their freedom in this particular portion of the Bermuda Triangle, they knew the value of what they had in their isle of coffee, and so knew they had to defend it. So, the first thing they did was take down the lighthouses that had once stood on three sides of the island to guide ships safely to the one approach possible on the continental shelf.

That had happened in 1822.

Captain Outerbridge's grandmother had not remembered that – air travel and fair trade coffee had made the scene by the time she had told her grandson of that part of his heritage.

The Oceánica got the information put on the modern maps by going full steam ahead onto those rocks and knocking its bottom clean out.

Captain Outerbridge got a call from the isle of coffee just then explaining the situation – the natives had stood in amazement watching the Oceánica get closer and closer and then remembered the rocks and had called the authorities. The key thing the authorities wanted the captain to know: the water was only 295 feet deep.

Captain Outerbridge had the presence of mind to head off a complete disaster on his 300-foot-tall ship by saying: “Coffee from the island, coming on the upper deck!”

The crew of the Oceánica managed to guide the frightened passengers to the upper deck in time as the ship settled straight down onto the rocks – all were saved, and were taken off the boat by rescuers from the island and given what Captain Outerbridge had promised: the best cup of coffee in the Caribbean.

But for Captain Outerbridge and the crew, one last task remained, one last task to be worked on with the environmental rescue crew from the island. The fuel had to be pumped out from the underwater position it was in, and time was of the essence. The isle itself had tranquil shores, but summer hurricanes and the configuration of the continental shelf there meant that when high tide hit –.

Art by the author, Deeann D. Mathews

The fuel and captain and crew made it off the Oceánica with 15 minutes to spare. Later, the captain was seen on shore, weeping as the once-mighty cruise ship was battered like driftwood on the rocks, a total loss. That same beautiful voice that had kept the lives of all aboard his ship safe in the end sounded out in tuneful sorrow, after the manner of his grandmother's songs:

“For the lack of filling a coffee cup,
The ship went down, and the cry went up:
For alas, the world will not go 'round
Without our morning brew!”