Bienvenito Pancho doesn't remember much of that night or the storm that swamped their boat. A fisherman for 37 years, he knows how to sleep through rough waters. "The captain yelled for me to come help," he said. "It was maybe 3am. The boat had already taken on a lot of water and was leaning to one side. Most of the crew was on the opposite side trying to balance it. Others were bailing water."
But the odds were against the crew ever righting the ship. The Mes 62 was originally a tugboat and had been lengthened and outfitted to house a fishing crew. Its flat bottom left it ill suited to ride waves several meters high. After some six hours of relentless storm, the Mes 62 was lost and her crew had retreated to five bangkas, or small skiffs, that were used to lay fishing nets.
The captain ordered that the bangkas be tied together so that they wouldn't drift apart. His was equipped with a small outboard motor and could be used to catch up to any boat they might see pass in the
distance.
After three days, one did, and the captain and two crew sharing his bangka untied from the group and set off to catch it.
"We waited another two days, praying for them to come back in that boat," Pancho said. "We never saw if they made it because the waves were too high. We'd also drifted far from where we were and were afraid they wouldn't be able to find us."
After two days, the four skiffs, each with four men in them, divided into two groups. Without a motor to catch passing vessels, the crew decided they would double their chances of survival by splitting up; if one group was spotted, they could go in search of the others. Two days later, Pancho's group divided again, hoping to further increase their chances.
"We needed a plan. We needed to follow the wind and currents," he said. "We had to try to go somewhere instead of just drifting."
But after a week without food and only rainwater to drink, the crew of the boat to which they were tethered was more interested in foraging for food than trying to navigate a course. And so at 51-years-old and with the most experience at sea, Pancho took charge of his small bangka. With him was Julio Balaga, age 40, Jaime Canono, 35, and Rene Jacosalem, who at 29 was the youngest in the group. Like Pancho, Balaga and Jacosalem were eager to use whatever advantage they could find, but Canono was ill. When the Mes 62 sank, he' d helped bail out the hull and had swallowed diesel fuel that leaked out of its tank.
"He wanted to help the captain," Balaga explained. "But he stayed in the hull too long and it made him sick. He wasn't searching for food like the rest of us."
It was a search that would ultimately prove futile. "For maybe two days there were a few fish and crabs," Balaga said. "They would swim near the boat and we'd grab them with our hands. But after two days there weren't any." Later they would try eating the crab shells, then the barnacles on the bottom of the skiff, and finally the sleeves of their shirts, tearing off small pieces and forcing themselves to swallow it down. When it rained they would wring their shirts for rainwater to drink. When it didn't, they'd drink a small amount of water from the sea, and finally their urine.
Pancho had been shipwrecked on other occasions, but never for three weeks. He credits his survival in part to a fellow seaman who survived more than 30 days in a bangka with three others. After a month lost at sea, Pancho's friend was the only one left alive.
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