In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

Introduction Where do I begin and where do I end in committing to print the designs left forever on my soul by those with whom I sailed the Sofia? The people I knew during my travels all were part of a grand tale, and I will never completely forsake any one of them. But what actually happens afterward? Where do the players go? Are we hopelessly lost to one another when we shed the roles once so crucial to our collective identity? I am often asked about my fellow Sofians, particularly those with whom I shared the life rafts. When I answer that we are no longer in close contact, people stare at me incredulously. How could I have allowed this estrangement to occur? How could so momentous an experience fail to bind us forever? I have given this a great deal of thought. Perhaps one of the most difficult tasks that we are expected to accomplish in this life arrives in the aftermath of such a dreadful ordeal. Be it a war, act of violence, illness, accident, profound personal loss, or disaster at sea, we must then shoulder the awesome burden of how to incorporate this reality-altering experience in our lives. If we convince ourselves that we must be better human beings for having endured, do we search for new meaning? If we dare ask, “Why me?” do we commit ourselves to finding an answer? If, during the course of our traumatic experience, we attain a heightened level of consciousness, must we forever after engage in an earnest struggle to regain that elevated state of being? And should we attempt to share the details of the ordeal? Epilogue I am part of all that I have met. —alfred lord tennyson 341 Because far too often, language is so piteously inadequate to convey the true depth of emotion that we feel that we end up trivializing it. We are then left with the sick empty sensation of having betrayed something vitally personal. In the final analysis, many of us who survive such a test feel bilked. We realize that we may not have survived because we were chosen, and we therefore should not expect to experience some cosmic rebirth.We are only mortal. We are flawed. And for a time we are hopelessly lost and desperately alone.When (or if) we return from our journey, after sifting through all the multifaceted dimensions of the event and processing their intense impact on our lives, we often emerge to find that we have traveled vast distances, not only in terms of years and miles but conceptually and spiritually as well. I have been on such a journey. As a result, I have chosen through the years to avoid rehashing what happened with the other members of the crew. I have moved on, and life has filled up the spaces left in the wake of the Sofia. I expect it has been so for us all. We are today as we existed then—separate beings who once combined on a magical stage to form one fantastic, albeit temporary, ensemble. And, yes, we are inextricably bound to one another by this fact. Together we did occupy an enchanted place and share an inimitable time. Although our respective paths may never cross again, I will always feel an imperishable connection to those with whom I journeyed. Where they venture, what they accomplish, and who they become will always matter. The lives of my fellow voyagers have unfolded in a tapestry of ironic, mundane , and disastrous patterns since we parted. I have been made privy to some of the details. Here are just a few of their stories. The film company that had originally contracted to use the Sofia proceeded , almost without missing a beat, to make the movie. It used Eye of the Wind, a traditional tall ship skippered by a sailor named Tiger, who was a longtime friend of Evan’s. The project was completed. The film was released under the name The Pirate Bully Hayes. The replica of the Bounty sailed back across the Pacific to star in a third remake of the film by the same name. When she landed in Los Angeles, her boatswain was none other than the Sofia’s young Chris. And the skipper for the last leg of the Bounty’s journey was Roger Morris, the New Zealand artist whose painting of the Sofia now decorates thousands of his...

Share