REPORTER: Miles and miles of vast ocean, as search and rescue teams fly over the Atlantic, hoping for any clues as to what happened on the Galaxy, a $200 million yacht owned by billionaire Jason Lambert. The ship sent a distress signal around 11:20 Friday night, reporting some type of event. It is believed to have sunk shortly thereafter.

ANCHOR: What about survivors, Tyler?

REPORTER: The news is not good. By the time rescue teams reached the area, the Galaxy was completely gone. Bad weather and strong currents may have carried debris—and even the bodies of any survivors—miles from the original transmission site.

ANCHOR: Have they discovered anything at all?

REPORTER: There are parts of the yacht’s exterior that rescue teams say they have spotted. We’re told the Galaxy was constructed of a very lightweight fiberglass that allowed it to go faster than similar yachts. Unfortunately, that also made it more susceptible to impact. An investigation is underway.

ANCHOR: An investigation into what exactly?

REPORTER: Frankly, if there was any foul play involved. There are many things that can happen to a ship at sea. But an event this destructive is quite extraordinary.

ANCHOR: Well, for now, our thoughts and prayers go out to the families of those lost—including our own Valerie Cortez and cameraman Hector Johnson, who were reporting from the Galaxy when this tragedy took place.

REPORTER: Indeed. I’m sure many loved ones still hold out hope that at least some of the passengers survived. But the ocean is cold in these parts. And hopes dim with each passing hour.

Sea

Day six. Another strange occurrence to report. This morning, the skies grew thick with clouds and the winds whipped up until they sounded like high-pitched engines. The ocean is deafening in such moments, Annabelle. You must scream to be heard, even a few feet away. The salt water blows across your face and stings your eyes.

Our raft rose and fell, smacking the surface with each drop. It was like riding a bucking horse. We gripped the safety ropes to keep from bouncing out.

At one point, little Alice tumbled loose. Nina dove and grabbed her with both arms as a crash of water soaked us all. She scrambled back with Alice in her grip and started wailing, “Stop! . . . Stop!” I saw Alice reach an arm out toward the Lord, who was crouched across the raft, unfazed by any of this.

The man put his hands over his nose and mouth and closed his eyes. Suddenly, the wind stopped. The air went dead. All sounds disappeared. It was like that T. S. Eliot poem, “the still point of the turning world,” as if the entire planet held its breath.

“What just happened?” Nevin asked.