Nate's condition deteriorated today so we rendezvoued with a boat called Flying Lady to retrieve an IV and some fluids. At first it seamed like I nailed the vein ok but it turns out I was doing it wrong. Luckily I had three needles left to try again. Fail, fail, fail. Plan B: transfer Nate to a passing cruise ship with proper medical facilities. I informed Nate it was in route to Malta and to be sure to collect his passport prior to disembarking Seabiscuit.
The transfer was easily one of the most surreal experiences of my sailing life. Picture motoring up to a 990 ft long boat in the middle of the Atlantic at night with the hopes my weaken buddy can hurl
his body onto the pilot boarding ladder and scramble up to the opening. The cruise ship was slowing down so all thrusters were in reverse, churning the water along side. The 65 ft high mast swinging dangerously close to the poop deck, or whatever was above the pilot door opening. Good thing we had fenders out, now scared with blue paint from the ship's side.
Nate made it and I'm sure he'll be fine but if anyone hears news of his condition, please let me know. I think the moment I'll remember most was the look on Nate's face as I made attempt after attempt to jab a needle in his vein while the boat was lurching about in the waves, never to succeed.