The first news of Fabrice Amedeo's rescue was followed by an initial relieved greeting from the 42-year-old former journalist, who now works as a professional sailor: "Hello everyone. I'm safe and sound on a freighter that will drop me off in the Azores tomorrow morning. My Imoca 'Nexans - Art et Fenêtres' has gone up in flames before my eyes. All my dreams went down with my ship." In the evening, the Frenchman then talked in detail for the first time about the hardest sailing hours of his life, about the YACHT online has already reported in a first news item.
By Fabrice Amedeo, Skipper "Nexans - Art & Fenêtres":
Sunday morning: everything is fine on board and I have a great race. The boat flies hard through the gusts. There are heavy seas. Suddenly I realise that my ballast has exploded on a wave and that I have several hundred litres of water in the boat. I stop for safety's sake and start to empty everything out. At this moment, the batteries are immediately affected by the water and fail. I have a complete power cut on board. I have no power at all - no autopilot, no computer, no electronics. In consultation with my team, I decide to drive carefully towards Cascais.
Sunday afternoon: heavy smoke on board the boat. I use the fire extinguisher, put on my TPS (survival suit) and alert the race organisers, who ask a participant in the Imoca class to assist me if necessary. The smoke finally stops. I decide to continue my journey to Cascais. I meet James Harayda, the skipper of the"Gentoo"who had come to the area to help me. I thank him and continue my journey. I dry the boat completely and prepare for a difficult crossing. I slept for two hours last night to recover from my emotions and I'm steering for six hours tonight.
"I realise that I have to leave the boat"
(Monday, 14 November) Another two and a half hour siesta, then seven hours at the wheel. Shortly after 12.30pm today, more new smoke on board. Followed by an explosion. I feel my way back into the cabin and manage to get my TPS. My grab bag (survival bag) had been left in the cockpit. I go back to get my wedding ring. I press the fire extinguisher, but nothing happens. The smoke is not white like yesterday, but yellow. The cockpit is foggy and yellowed. Splashes of seawater sound like water hitting a saucepan.
I realise that I have to leave the boat. I warn my team about a possible evacuation. When I hang up, I find myself in the back of the boat. A stream of flames shoots out of the cabin and the cabin roof. I'm caught in the middle of the flames. I can't even open my eyes. I manage to push the life raft into the water and jump.
"If you want to live, you have a few seconds to find the knife"
Normally, the end that holds the life raft to the boat should release. But it doesn't. The boat, which I was still able to steer but which is being driven forwards by the rough sea, pulls the life raft, which fills up with water. I manage to get on board without letting go. I think that was the point where everything came together and things took a turn for the better. I said to myself:"If you want to live, you have a few seconds to find the knife and cut."
The Imoca pulls me back in its direction. The waves bring me dangerously close to her. I finally find the knife and cut. My life raft drifts with the wind towards the boat, which is on fire. It takes 30 minutes before it sinks. I spoke to the boat and thanked it. We were going to sail around the world together in two years.
"I know it's not over yet"
Then you have to get organised. The satellite phone couldn't stand the water in the life raft and doesn't work. I say to myself:"Nobody knows that the boat has sunk and that you are in your lifeboat. If you activate the emergency direction finder that you were able to take with you from the Imoca and the one in the life raft, they will have the information." That's exactly what I'm doing. I can't find a bailer on board. A Tupperware container with batteries saves me. I empty the life raft and start waiting.
I make sure that the life raft doesn't tip over. The sea is very, very rough. I take stock of the equipment on board and prepare myself for what is about to happen. I collect the distress rockets. I put the VHF around my neck. I spend hours in the life raft. I am surprisingly calm. The life raft regularly fills with water due to the slightly breaking waves. I notice it all, but I feel safe. At the same time, I know that it's not over yet.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to get on board such a giant in this swell"
To save the batteries, I make a mayday call on the VHF every 30 minutes. I took the VHF on board thanks to Éric, my team leader, who had time to give me this advice just before I hung up. I kept the batteries from the life raft for later.
A few minutes later, a voice answers me. A cargo ship six nautical miles away from my position is coming into my area. I'm reassured, but I don't know how I'm supposed to get on board such a giant in this swell. I'm in constant contact with the captain, who can't see me, via VHF: The sea is huge, the sun is on the water and I'm a tiny orange dot. He told me beforehand:"You're alive because you told me so: I'm about two miles off your starboard side."
"This giant calms the sea a little and sucks me in"
I fire a distress signal. He sees me. He loses me. I fire a second one. He sees me and enters the area. He attempts a first approach, which fails. It is very impressive to be only a few metres away from this steel giant in my dinghy. He apologises over the VHF and starts to approach.
As he passes, the stern wave builds up and the life raft fills with a lot of water. He positions himself upwind of me, a few metres away, which is crazy, and drifts towards me. This giant calms the sea a little and sucks me in. The liferaft rubs along the hull from front to back. If that doesn't work, things get complicated very quickly. The crew has thrown me lines that I can't grab at first.
"There is a fine line between survival and drama"
Eventually I get hold of a line that I can hold close to the bow of the boat. Everything is in a nutshell. There's a fine line between success and failure, survival and drama. The crew pulls me to a lowered gangway. The waves sometimes carry me to the top of the stairs. Then it's five metres down again. This is a final test. When the life raft passes under the gangway, it is pierced and I am thrown into the water.
I approach. A first time. I don't have the feeling that it's right. A second wave comes and carries me up. I jump onto the gangway and find myself in the arms of a man wearing a helmet. I climb on deck. I am greeted by about twenty crew members. It's crazy at this moment. They give me a big hug and congratulate me. Before I"Phew" they take me into a room. I don't take off my survival suit."But you are dry"they hallucinate. Yes, yes, we are equipped on our racing boats!
"It's crazy what an animalistic ability humans have to master a survival situation"
I take a shower and put on a crew outfit. As soon as I'm on board the freighter, the fear and adrenaline kick in. My legs are shaking. It's crazy what an animalistic ability humans have to master a survival situation. Then I realise: death didn't want me today, or rather, life didn't want me to leave it.
I'm devastated, but the happiest of men, because my wife and daughters won't be going to bed crying tonight. As I get out of the shower, the captain and his mate come to meet me. We fall into each other's arms. They also have trembling legs, they tell me.
This adventure does not change my passion for my profession and for the sea. I would like to thank my team, the race organisers of the Route du Rhum- Destination Guadeloupe and the rescue teams who ensured that this rescue operation took place in the best possible conditions. I am also thinking of my partners. I thank them for their trust. I will recover. We will be back.
