It’s no secret that I would love to know how to sail (past references here and here). I’ve been sailing lots of times but that’s very different to having any degree of competence. Anyway, I didn’t need much convincing to read A Marriage at Sea (also published as Maurice and Maralyn) by Sophie Elmhirst.

It’s the true story of Maurice and Maralyn Bailey, a young British couple who survived 118 days adrift on a small rubber raft in the Pacific Ocean after a breaching whale sank their boat, Auralyn, in 1973. They had been attempting to sail around the world (at leisure), and had already been sailing a year when they ran into strife.

Elmhirst is not the first to write about the incredible journey. The Bailey’s wrote their own account, published in 1974, and the story has also been covered by journalists and film-makers. Elmhirst’s point-of-difference is a deeper look at the before-and-after.

Maurice is described as a loner. Estranged from his family, he was socially awkward and obsessive. He was introduced to Maralyn via a colleague and initially it seemed an odd match because Maralyn was charismatic, outgoing and ambitious.

Love, when it works, can feel like such a terrifying fluke.

But Maurice offered the dream of escaping their narrow life and having a true adventure. While he may have gone on dreaming, Maralyn turned it into a reality – they sold their house, built a boat, quit their jobs and set sail. It’s worth noting at this point that although she was a brilliant planner, Maralyn never learnt how to swim!

Departure is always clarifying, but particularly so on a boat. One moment, you are bound to the land by a rope, the next you are not. 

The second part of the book covers the sinking of Auralyn, and the terrifying days that followed, alone in a tiny rubber raft, surviving on raw turtle meat and fish, and water collected when it rained. During their 118 days adrift, they saw several ships, but were unable to attract attention as their signal flares failed. After drifting some 2,400 km, they were rescued by the crew of the South Korean fishing boat, Weolmi 306.

The third part of the book examines Maurice’s later years, after Maralyn’s death. This was the most interesting part, as it’s through Maurice and his memories that Elmhirst highlights the difference between loneliness and solitude.

Solitude, when chosen, can feel like such a gift.

And when not chosen, it is torture. Maralyn was Maurice’s buffer. Through her, he engaged with others in a way previously unknown to him. When she died, he experienced intense loneliness and ‘…turned grief into punishment.’

Trapped inside a person, grief can feel like a rising tide of water, something vast and dramatic requiring release. But once spoken, it tends to reveal itself to be the same, small, essential things, over and over. He missed her. 

Without question, the Bailey’s story is astounding, and what they did to survive, almost incomprehensible. In terms of drama-at-sea, the book delivers. However, going beyond the facts and getting to the emotional endurance and aftermath is trickier – although Elmhirst made a good attempt in the final part of the book, overall, I found it lightweight.

A Marriage at Sea is described as a ‘true story of love’ but I was never convinced that the Bailey’s love for each other was the reason they survived (despite it being positioned as such). Biologically, I think we’re hard-wired to strive for survival (and without sounding cold, this belief about survival, regardless of the circumstances, very much informs my practice as a therapist). My curiosity about Maurice and Maralyn’s individual decisions to ‘hold on’ versus ‘let’s chuck ourselves overboard’ was never fully satisfied.

3/5

On to Bequia, then St Vincent. Maralyn made drop scones. St Lucia and Martinique. She saw a horse run along a beach and made sausage rolls. Dominica and Guadeloupe. They hosted a dinner: steak, sausage, roast potatoes, rum punch.