Into the Raging Sea: Thirty-Three Mariners, One Megastorm, and the Sinking of El Faro

by Rachel Slade

Wind speed and force have an exponential relationship, meaning that as the wind notches up, its force doubles, then triples, and then quadruples, and so on. It’s based on a simple formula: wind pressure per square foot = 0.00256 x (wind speed)2. Put another way, between 1 mile per hour and 35 miles per hour, the wind’s force against the boat runs roughly six to nine times its velocity. That’s the kind of incremental change that the human brain can handle. But over the next 35 miles per hour, its force rapidly grows to eighteen times its velocity. At 112 miles per hour, the wind’s force is thirty times its velocity—you can’t stand upright in that kind of wind no matter how far you lean; first you’ll slide across the ground, then you’ll get thrown backward into an uncontrollable somersault.

Start with a completely calm sea at noon on Monday; a 28-mile-per-hour wind starts to blow and by 11 p.m. on Tuesday, you’ll have thirteen-foot waves. A rough guide for wind to wave height is two to one—60-mile-per-hour winds (52 knots) stir up thirty-plus-foot waves, depending on fetch, or the length of open water over which the wind blows.

The American Revolution was as much a maritime dispute as it was a philosophical battle. The wealthiest colonists—the captains and merchants—would not be legislated and taxed without representation.

deploy at a moment’s notice, which made all the difference during World War II when the US government conscripted America’s merchant fleet and seamen to transport troops and munitions to Europe under risk of U-boat fire. This was exceptionally dangerous work; the US Merchant Marine suffered more casualties than any other military division in the war.

Shipping is the engine that drives the modern world. It’s our T-shirts, diapers, beer, and crisp new sheets. It’s everything we wear, everything we touch, the parts inside our cars, our laptops, and our dinner. More than 90 percent of the things people need come by ship.

Most rescue pilots have the cool demeanor of race cars drivers—exquisitely sensitive to minute changes in their environment but highly directed in response. No action is wasted. Because they’re in the business of saving lives, not taking their own.

In his book Deep Survival, Laurence Gonzales writes, “The word ‘experienced’ often refers to someone who has gotten away with doing the wrong thing more frequently than you have.”

It had taken three missions, six weeks at sea across ten months, and $3 million to get this

In the Judeo-Christian tradition, thirty-three is the number of promise, the numerical equivalent of amen. The name of God, Elohim, appears thirty-three times in Genesis. God demanded that Noah build an ark dozens of times; his final request, number 33, came with the covenant that he would never again flood the world. In the New Testament, Jesus lived thirty-three years and in that time accomplished thirty-three miracles. The number 33 in Kabbalah signifies “the end of suffering.” In Islam, thirty-three is al-Azim, the supreme glory, and considered the “perfect age”—how old believers will always be in heaven. The Tibetan Book of the Dead describes thirty-three heavens ruled by Indra and thirty-three ruled by Mara. And consider science: the human spine has thirty-three vertebrae, and human DNA is made up of thirty-three turns.

Corporations may always fight for deregulation (euphemistically known as small government). And taxpayers will always pick up the bill. It’s incredible to think that all the money the government and TOTE “saved” by cutting corners over the years was spent many times over following the accident—first to finance the massive search-and-rescue effort and then to cover the cost of the three VDR recovery missions, which alone totaled more than $3 million. Not to mention the countless hours the US Coast Guard and the NTSB devoted to investigating the sinking. And, most importantly, the deaths of thirty-three men and women—people who were only doing their jobs—and the immeasurable suffering of those who loved them. It’s the same twisted math that prevents us from investing in renewable infrastructure while committing billions of tax dollars to subsidize America’s petroleum industry.