Real Survival Stories - Sinking Cargo Ship: Adrift Without a Lifejacket

Episode Date: April 2, 2025

London to Guernsey - a simple trip transporting cargo via the world’s busiest shipping lane. Or so you might think… When pounding waves flood their craft, the three-person crew of the Hooness will be forced to do something every sailor dreads: abandon ship. With no help in sight, 20-year-old Sheenagh Levett will find herself alone in the water, without a lifejacket, unsure if she’ll ever see her crewmates or land again… A Noiser production, written by Joe Viner. For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the Noiser+ banner to get started. Or, if you’re on Spotify or Android, go to noiser.com/subscriptions If you have an amazing survival story of your own that you’d like to put forward for the show, let us know. Drop us an email at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

With the Fizz loyalty program, you get rewarded just for having a mobile plan. You know, for texting and stuff. And if you're not getting rewards like extra data and dollars off with your mobile plan, you're not with Fizz. Switch today. Conditions apply. Details at fizz.ca. It's September the 4th, 1974. Dawn. Piercing squalls cut across the chilly, fog-mantled waters of the English Channel. The busiest shipping lane in the world.

Beneath a dingy white sky, rolling breakers span the length of the horizon. Massive, slow-moving undulations cobwebbed with foam thundering in the mist. For the huge container ships that traverse these waters, storms like this make crossings uncomfortable. For anything smaller, they can be deadly. In the middle of the channel, about 14 miles from the French coast, the evidence of a recent catastrophic shipwreck drifts on the surface of the sea. Flotsam and jetsam tumble about in the surf, a piece of rigging, a torn fragment of tarp, cracked wood and twisting metal, all that remains of the merchant vessel who nests as

it is consumed by the water. And thrashing amongst the waves and the debris is 20-year-old Sheena Levitt. Coughing, panting, trying to get her bearings, Sheena combs around in the devastation, attempting to work out where she is. Tina combs around in the devastation, attempting to work out where she is. Minutes ago she was aboard her ship. Now chaos reigns. Terrible weather, wreckage everywhere. You can imagine with these huge rollers, these huge waves, bits of wood crashing down and they're heavy so if one of those hits you that

probably the end of you. Keeping her head above the constantly shifting surface is almost impossible made worse by the fact that somehow somewhere in this madness Sheena has lost her life jacket. No sign of her life preserver, no sign of the life raft, and most disturbingly, no sign of her shipmates, including her husband, Paul. The Envyhunes is already lost, sinking to the bottom of the sea. How long will it be before the stricken crew join her in the depths? And I thought, oh my god, I hope I'm not on my own. I was so frightened of being on my own.

And even to the extent I thought, well, if I'm on my own, what do I do? How do I survive? Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? If your life depended on your next decision, could you make the right choice? Welcome to Real Survival Stories. These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode, we meet cook and deckhand Sheena Leavitt. In September 1974, Sheena is part of the crew of the MV Hunness,

a cargo ship sailing from London to Guernsey. But they won't make it that far. I thought we shouldn't be doing this. The weather had blown up again, the weather had got worse, and I started to get frightened. And Sheena's misgivings will prove to be well-founded. When pounding waves flood the vessel in rough seas, her three-person crew will be forced into a decision that every sailor dreads.

Abandoning ship. Sheena will find herself alone adrift, unsure if she'll ever see her crewmates or land again. I came to. It was absolutely pitch black. Couldn't see a thing. Didn't know which way was up. I thought my lungs were going to burst.

I thought I was going to have to breathe in some water. So I just swam and swam and swam as fast as I could. I'm John Hopkins from the Noisr Podcast Network. This is Real Survival Stories. It's Tuesday, September 3rd, 1974, in Ierith, South East London. Cargo ships line the wharf at a port of London Authority terminal on the Thames.

While seagulls arc overhead, the murky Brown River laps against the shore, where coils of rope and rusting oil drums lie half-embedded in the mud. Along the jetty, early dock workers load pallets into the hulls of ships, their hulls adorned with the names of the European ports for which they're bound. Rotterdam, Hamburg, Antwerp, Gdansk. Nestled among the freighters, a small merchant vessel bobs in its loading bay. The MV Hunes is a 200-ton, 100-foot coaster cargo ship, considerably slighter than many of our neighbors. There's a welded steel hull and a simple wooden wheelhouse

perched above the main deck. On board, the skipper runs his crew through their pre-departure checklist. One of the shipmates immediately stands out. 20-year-old Sheena Leavitt is used to being the only woman in a world typically dominated by men. The spirited young deckhand has earned her place in this testosterone fuel environment. She's learned to brush off the occasional raised eyebrow and sidelong glance. And when it comes to the boarded jokes and taunts, well.

I gave as good as I got, but I also think that it made me strong because you had to stand your ground. And how did I cope? I just got on with it. I've always just got on with everything, really. You have to. But yes, I stood up for myself being a woman amongst men. And I think men on the ships very soon

realize that I was my own person and I wouldn't be pushed around. Despite her relative youth, Sheena already has plenty of life experience under her belt. At 17, she left home in search of adventure and found it, somewhat surprisingly, in a pub in Rye, East Sussex. It was there that she met a charming merchant seaman named Paul. The young couple took off traveling together and tied the knot shortly after returning

to England. The footloose, free-wheeling life appeals to Sheena, in part because it's so different from the one she grew up with. Her father was a high-ranking officer in the army, and there were times when the family home felt more like a training camp. You basically had to do what you were told all the time, and I admit that I was a bit of a rebel, and I think when I got to 17 and was allowed to leave home, I took every opportunity to go off and have a bit of excitement in my life, not really knowing where it was going to lead.

So I think the restraints of my upbringing probably made me go off and do the things I did. By the age of 19, Sheena was living with her new husband in the southeast of England. But a life of quiet domesticity was never really on the cards. When Paul found work skippering cargo ships out of the Thames Estuary, Sheena, still thirsting for more adventure, decided to go with him. I think it was just in my nature to do things that I really shouldn't have done and get myself through it and come out the other side. Working as a cook and deckhand,

Sheena quickly adapted to the rough and tumble world of maritime haulage. While she still suffers occasional bouts of seasickness, for the most part the 20-year-old has gotten used to her new life. From the stinging cold of cargo ports at dawn, to the delicate art of cooking meals in rough weather. She's even experienced one or two close calls. On a recent voyage from Germany back to England, their ship ran aground in shallow water beneath

margade cliffs. Fortunately, they were able to free themselves when the tide came in. But still, the experience shook them. It made me much more wary. You know, I'd sort of thought that shits don't sink. I suppose I was quite naive. Shits don't sink. You just get from A to B.

But it did make me much more wary. It's mid-morning. Sheena and Paul busy themselves around deck. Their third crew member, a young New Zealander named David, is securing the cargo in the hold. Today's assignment is a straightforward voyage to the Channel Island of Guernsey, 70 miles off the south coast of England, where they are to deliver a shipment of cement. The cargo was loaded and then we all got ready to set off to Guernsey. And we loved going to Guernsey and we wanted to be there for the weekend so we could have a weekend of fun. On board the hunness, spirits are high, but the crew's sunny mood is not reflected by

the weather, which is overcast, with bruised rain clouds massing overhead. David calls up from the hold. With the cargo safely stowed, they're almost ready to cast off. Sheena just has time to do one last thing, something she always does before setting off on a voyage. She hops onto the concrete jetty and hurries towards the bank, her long brown hair flowing behind her. She passes through the gates of the terminal and crosses the street to a telephone box. I can picture that telephone box to this day and I can remember phoning my mother, which

I always did to say, right, we're setting off and you won't hear from us for a bit. As she listens to her mother's reply, needle pricks of rain begin to speckle the grimy glass of the phone box. And in that moment, Sheena experiences something rather odd. A sudden sense of foreboding. I had a premonition that something was going to happen, and I've never had that in my life before. It was quite extraordinary and so extraordinary that I can remember now standing in that box and saying it to her, and I just knew something was going to happen. Her mother's voice at the end of the line sounds worried as she probes her daughter for answers. What does she mean? Something's going to happen.

But Sheena just mutters a sheepish goodbye and hangs up the phone. She tries to shake off the bad feeling as she walks back along the jetty, down to where Paul and David are waiting. There's no point in saying anything to Paul. Her husband is unfailingly rational, would have no time at all for her superstitions. And so Sheena climbs aboard and watches silently as David slips off their mooring lines. Okay, Martin, let's try one. Remember, big. You got it.

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Soon the roar of the motor takes them out into the widening estuary, where they are quickly swallowed up by the drizzle and fog. As they sail from the mouth of the Thames and around the Kent coastline, the wet and windy weather persists. There's even some talk of docking somewhere so they can wait for conditions to improve. But as they continue south, the sky brightens and the rain eases off. By the time we got down to Dover, the weather had abated and so the decision was made to carry on. So that's what we did. Sailed past Dover and on we went.

The wind has dropped and the rain clouds have lifted, revealing clear blue skies. They set a course west and continue their voyage along the coastline. To their right, chalk cliffs trace the horizon in a narrow pale band, periodically interrupted by the seaside towns of Eastbourne, Brighton, and Bogner Regis. When they reach the Isle of Wight, they set a southerly course and head out into the English Channel. They're making decent headway. But as the day wears on, the weather changes yet again. Still becomes breezy, which becomes gusty. Soon foaming whitecaps surge towards the prow of the hunness, which bucks aggressively over the rollers.

And it was about, probably about two hours into that journey that I thought we shouldn't be doing this. The weather had blown up again, the weather had got worse, and I started to get frightened. But, you know, we had a cargo that had to be delivered, so we carried on. Sheena holds her tongue. She stands below deck in the galley, her face turning green with seasickness. Gripping the wooden countertop, she stares through the porthole at the roiling, grey sea. Paul continues to guide the vessel forwards. The fact that his 20-year-old wife was saying to him, I don't like this, I want to go back.

That wasn't a reason to turn around, was it? So, onward and upward. The seas were at a stage where they… we'd been in them before, and it was rough, and you'd got these huge rollers, but it was manageable. As night falls, the gale continues to shriek around the small cargo ship. On unsteady feats, Sheena makes her way up to the wheelhouse. Paul and David are standing side by side at the helm, watching the waves break across the bow of the huness with expressions of workman-like concentration.

Sheena is about to say something, but again, she hesitates. I still have this premonition, but you can't turn a ship around because somebody's got a premonition. It doesn't work like that. So I was, yeah, I took, I suppose, the easy option. I thought I'm going to go to sleep and sleep through it. When I wake up, everything will be all right, which wasn't the case. It's dawn the following morning. Sheena's eyes snap open as a metallic, tearing sound reverberates all around her.

I got woken up with the metal battens being ripped off the ship, being ripped off the hold and crashing against the sleeping quarters. That's what woke me up. Sheena throws off the covers and swings her legs over the edge of the bunk. As she gets to her feet, a wave of nausea shudders through her. The ship's usual rhythmic rise and fall has intensified into a violent, vomit-inducing seesaw. She anesthetized herself against the wooden bed frame. Cabinet doors swing open as they lurch over the swell, flinging their contents across

the cabin. After pulling on some jeans and a t-shirt, Sheena staggers over to the hatch. She pulls herself through onto the main deck and peers out beyond the guardrails. Beneath a heavy, fog-bound sky, giant whitecaps surge through the mist. And the waves, I had never seen anything like it. One minute we were on top of a roller, the next minute you just plow down into the depths of the sea. And then up you came, climbing up another roller, over the top, crashing down the other side.

Sheena is rooted to the spot. The sky and sea have merged into seamless gray, distinguishable only by the streaks of white foam tracing the crests of the waves. Even for experienced seafarers, the enormity of this storm is hard to fathom. The Hunes is catapulted through the maelstrom as cold spray lashes the crew. It looks like there was something in Sheena's premonition after all. It's daybreak on September 4th, 1974, approximately 14 miles north of Cherbourg. In the wheelhouse of the merchant vessel who nests, Sheena Leavitt stares through the glass panels overlooking the lower deck and at the turbulent, wind-lashed sea beyond.

It's hard to believe she's looking at the English Channel. Swells as extreme as these are normally associated with the wild, stormy waters of the Southern Hemisphere. To me, it reminded me of films that one saw of people trying to go around South America or through the roaring 40s. It was that type of vision. And we were terrified. Well, I was terrified. And I think Paul was.

I think he suddenly realized things were out of his control. Paul grapples with the ship's wheel as it jerks and twists out of his grasp. Sheena has never seen her husband look so rattled. Normally she can turn to him for comfort when conditions get rough. But right now, Paul looks just as afraid as she does. Every time you go over the crest of a wave and down into the trough the other side, the propeller comes out of the water.

And it makes a real screeching noise, which makes the whole atmosphere even worse. The sailors zip themselves into their life jackets. All they can do is try to ride out this storm. The hunness climbs up the face of the next wave, before tilting forwards almost vertically as she races down the other side and plunges into the trough. Sheena is thrown forward with the impact. Writing herself, she sweeps her hair away from her face just in time to see the next wall of water thundering towards them.

Over and over, the small cargo ship is forced up and down through the waves. They just keep coming. And then suddenly after about half an hour of this, the bow of the ship when we crashed down one time didn't seem to come up properly. And it really, really struggled. And you could hear the propellers really struggling to give momentum to the ship. The ship sits low in the water, the propeller issuing a deep, weary rumble from beneath the surface. Then, hearing a cry of dismay from one of her shipmates, Sheena spins around and looks towards the back of the boat, where the hold is covered by a sheet of white tarpaulin.

We could see that at the far end of the hatch where the cargo was, right down the far end, the strength of the water had broken into the hold of the ship. This can't be good. broken into the hold of the ship. This can't be good. A loose corner of Tarpaulin flaps wildly in the wind, clearing the way for seawater to pour freely into the hold. And of course, every time we went up and we went down, more water went in.

Paul tried to turn the ship around, but it wouldn't respond because there was just not enough power there against the waves. So we went crashing down and we didn't come up. And that was it. The ship is rapidly filling with water. Without the requisite engine power to overcome the waves, each breaker engulfs the vessel entirely. The hunes slumps ever lower in the churning surf, listing heavily to one side. One more wave could finish her off. From their perch up in the wheelhouse,

Sheena, Paul and David are trapped on a sinking ship. They need to act fast. Behind the wheelhouse was a life raft and the life life raft, in those days, they were ones that automatically inflated when they hit salt water. So they tried to unstrap it and throw it into the sea. Paul and David swiftly extricate the life raft and fling it over the side. It sails through the air before landing with a dull thud on the lower deck, several feet short of its watery target.

David stares transfixed with horror at the useless, uninflated life raft. Paul meanwhile dashes across to the radio equipment. A Mayday signal is their last hope. Sheena watches Paul frantically tuning the transistor radio. Swirling green seawater strains against the glass of the wheelhouse window, creeping higher and higher up the window pane as the ship begins its inexorable slide beneath the waves. Suddenly a hand tightens around Shima's arm and yanks her out onto the rear deck. The three sailors stand there in their yellow life jackets, huddled together on the last corner of deck still protruding above the maelstrom. above the maelstrom.

Time seems to slow down. Frigid water sloshes around their knees and the air thunders with an incessant roar. Then a massive wave rolls in and sweeps their feet out from underneath them. Within seconds, Sheena is plunging into the icy deep. I had long hair, it was almost down to my waist, and I can remember my hair standing on end for want of a better expression. As I was sucked down, my hair was going up towards the surface, my arms were going up

towards the surface, and my life jacket went up towards the surface. My arms were going up towards the surface. And my life jacket went up towards the surface and I was sucked out of my life jacket. And then I blacked out. For a few moments, there's nothing. Sheena plummets below the surface of the English Channel. We'd obviously gone down quite a long way. I mean, I'd love somebody to tell me how far we went down, but I never have managed to do that. So I got sucked down, sucked out of my life jacket. Down, down, down. Her eyes are closed and her limbs drift limply by her side. Close by, the wreckage of the hunas drops silently into the gloom. Its fate is sealed.

But Sheena is still fighting for hers. Suddenly her eyes flicker open. I came to you. It was absolutely pitch black. I couldn't see a thing. Didn't know which way was up. So I breathed out and obviously the bubbles went up. So I just swam. I just swam and swam and swam as fast as I could.

I thought my lungs were going to burst. I thought I was going to have to breathe in some water. But I then noticed that suddenly the water was getting lighter. And I thought, my God, I'm nearly there. So I just hung on to that breath and I kept going. Finally she breaches the surface. Her teeth are chattering like crazy, and she has to blink constantly to protect her eyes from the stinging salt water. She is completely at the mercy of the sea, treading water on the sloping face of a giant

swell, her life jacket long gone. Frantically she looks around for Paul or David, but there's no sign of them. I thought, oh my god, I hope I'm not on my own. I was so scared of being alone in this ocean, just as it was getting light, terrible weather, wreckage everywhere, bits of wood crashing down, and they're heavy, so if one of those hits you, that will probably be the end of you. All she can see are the peaks and troughs of the waves stretching away in all directions like a mountain range.

It seems for all the world that she is the only survivor. But then, Sheena spots a tiny yellow dot bobbing amid the grey vastness. She looks closer, and even from several hundred feet away, she can tell that it's Paul. He was not a good swimmer. I mean, I'm very lucky. I was a very strong swimmer. But he managed to grab hold of two lifebelts when he came to the surface. And he obviously used those for buoyancy, whereas I didn't have anything.

But I must have grabbed hold of a bit of wreckage. He and I swam towards each other. Sheena drives herself forward through the waves. The shifting swells keep obscuring Paul from view, but then the next wave lifts her up and there he is, pushing through the water to water. Eventually, after an eternity, husband and wife reunite. Paul extends one of the orange plastic life belts and Sheena gratefully grabs hold.

Clinging tightly to each other, they take in the jumble of wreckage all around. And then suddenly we saw on the peak of a wave, we saw this life raft. It was round and it had a cover on it. So the one they'd thrown over the side must have released itself as the ship went down. And it must have released itself as the ship went down, and it must have inflated because it had touched the salt water.

As the sea surges upwards, the life raft disappears from view. Seconds later, when the waterline falls, there it is again, only more distant this time. It's floating in the wrong direction, getting further and further with each sharp gust of wind. Sheena and Paul swim furiously towards it, but it's no use. It's already too far, drifting agonizingly out of sight. They're about to give up their chase when a flap opens in the roof of the raft. And then we saw David poke his head out of the opening on the life raft

and he tied a bit of rope around his waist and he jumped into the sea and he swam towards us as best he could. What he actually did was stop the life raft drifting away from us and we managed to use the wind and the tide to get towards him. So if he hadn't done that I don't think we would have survived. I think he saved our lives. Limbs heavy with seawater and exhaustion, Sheena and Paul reach out towards David as

he drags the life raft their way. And then, as he reaches them, they're able to crawl in. They collapse in a heap, catching their breath, each reliving the events of the last half hour. That all three of them have made it this far, not only surviving the sinking, but also managing to find each other again in such unforgiving seas, defies probability. But now, as the wind and waves buffet their tiny inflatable vessel, how much longer will it be before their luck runs out?

It's mid-morning in the English Channel. The life raft floats aimlessly. Conditions have calmed as the morning has worn on. The huge thundering waves have diminished to rippling breakers and intermittent gusts. Weak sunlight trickles down through a crack in the overcast sky. down through a crack in the overcast sky. Sheena shivers as she unzips the medical kit bag stowed inside the life raft. Across from her, husband Paul and shipmate David sit with arms folded, bracing against the cold.

Among the other supplies in the kit bag, Sheena discovers several rolls of brown paper. I can remember being told by probably one of my parents that brown paper was a good insulator. So I made us all, the three of us, put brown paper on our arms, on our bodies, everywhere we could, just to try and keep us warm. on our bodies everywhere we could just to try and keep us warm. But the cold isn't the most pressing concern. Without any means of communication or navigation, their only hope of rescue lies in being spotted by a passing ship. Fortunately, they are in a good location for that. They're currently drifting through the extremely busy commercial shipping lanes between the UK and France.

That brings its own risks. If they float into the path of a much bigger vessel and it doesn't see them, it would be a whole new disaster. But with any luck, a freighter will see them and come to their aid. So the immediate thought was, right, we'll be to let off some flares. So we unzipped the canopy and Paul, with two of us holding him very firmly, he sort of leant out with this tremendous wind blowing, lit a flare and let it go. And of course there was nothing around and the wind just took it and nothing happened

at all. The flare veers off to the side, then fizzles out, trailing red smoke in its wake. Sheena watches gloomily as one of their last remaining lifelines burns up before their eyes. So we didn't want to waste them. I think we just made a decision to keep any flares and rockets until we felt we heard a ship. The three castaways sit slumped against the vinyl wall of the life raft, straining their ears for distant engines or foghorns. I got Paul to sit on one side of me and I got David to sit on the other side of me so that I could nudge them both because they kept falling asleep. And I said, you can't get asleep, you might not wake up.

I don't know if that was right or not, but I was so frightened of them dying in the life raft that I just kept nudging them and making sure they were awake." This is meant to be the busiest shipping lane in the world, and yet, ominously, there is nothing. Minutes stretch into hours, and they are totally at the mercy of the wind and the currents. If they aren't rescued soon, there's a very real possibility of drifting out beyond the mouth of the English Channel and into the Atlantic. And even in daylight, this life raft is tricky to pick out against the sprawling seascape, a speck of color amidst the gray. As dusk approaches, the prospect of a long, dark night at sea closes in.

It's late evening. Twilight has settled over the English Channel. Onboard the life raft, Sheena cups her hands over her mouth and blows warm air into her trembling fingers. Paul and David sit on the other side, knees tucked into their chests. They've been adrift all day, listening out for ships. There have been a few false alarms through the afternoon, leading to several wasted flares. Now the sailors' optimism has all but vanished. Then suddenly, David sits up. It must have been beginning to get dusk.

David said, I hear something. And we said, yeah, yeah, we, you know, we've done that before and there's nothing there. But David is insistent. No, I can hear something. So we unzipped the side of the canopy again and Paul put his head out and there was the most enormous ship. Hearing Paul exclaim, Sheena pokes her head out of the raft too. And there, barely more than a kilometer away, is a massive container ship, its vast prow creating huge surface waves as it cuts through the water.

Its vast prow creating huge surface waves as it cuts through the water. Surely they won't get a better chance than this. Paul grabs the box of flares. He pulls out several and lets them off in quick succession. But the wind just took them. They just took them, blew them out and they clearly hadn't been seen. Paul reaches for another flare. It's their last one. We got one rocket left. So he got the rocket out and he set it off,

trying to get it in front of the bowers of the ship. But that veered off as well. And we thought, oh, it hasn't clearly hasn't been seen. And then after what seemed an age, this huge ship started to turn and it started to turn towards us and we realized that we had been seen. Sheena, Paul and David embrace each other and punch the air. But though they can breathe a little more freely now, they're still not out of the woods. Because getting from their craft to the deck of a cargo ship is going to require a serious

physical effort, one that will demand every last ounce of strength they have left. As the container ship pulls alongside, the raft sways precariously in its wake. And it was like Goliath and David, David and Goliath, this tiny little pin-crick at the bottom of this great big ship. Sheena stares up at the towering cliff face of steel looming above them. How on earth are they going to get up there? A moment later, the answer comes. A sheet of netting is hurled down the side, the bottom edge reaching just above the water. Apparently, they are expected to climb.

Sheena looks hesitantly over at Paul and David. There's a gap of several feet separating the life raft from the net. A gap they're going to have to jump. How do you know when to jump? How do you know when to jump? How do you know? But we did. We just did it. And we got hold of the net and I started to climb. And I've never climbed Everest, but I'm sure it's a bit like the last climb up Everest. It was just unbelievable. The coarse rope is slick with seawater. Sheena doesn't look up or down, just concentrates on putting one foot above the other and not losing her grip. Finally, as they near the top,

the encouraging cries of the sailors on deck motivate them to the finish. When we got up to the top of the side of the ship, all these guys on the ship were leaning over to try and pull us on, and they all started clapping. And it was just amazing. Sheena, Paul and David collapse onto the deck. Finally they can say it.

They are safe. As it turns out, the nature of their rescue is even more miraculous than it first seemed. Their life raft, they learn, had drifted outside the shipping lanes. The fact that this freight ship, travelling from Jamaica to Germany, happened to cross their path was yet another stroke of extraordinary luck. The crew of the container ship helped them into dry clothes and offer them bunks in the first class cabins. The plan is to go the rest of the way to Germany and then to hitch a lift with another ship bound for England.

Right now, Sheena just wants to sleep. After thanking their saviors profusely, the three rescued castaways head below deck to get some rest. I remember the first night I had the most terrible nightmare about it all, but I have never ever had any problems since. Never dreamt about it since, never really until now talked about it since. I think it's remarkable how the mind can overcome these issues and move forward. If you've got the strength and will to do it, you can do it. After returning to England, Sheena and Paul part ways with David, who will later return to New Zealand. Sheena hasn't seen or spoken to him since their shared ordeal,

but she remains forever grateful for his bravery in helping them reach the life raft, an act that surely saved their lives. As for Sheena and Paul, life moves on extremely quickly in the months following the accident. Nine months after the sinking of the ship, I gave birth to my daughter, because I was on the pill and the pill went down with the ship. So I became a mother. Parenthood may be a new chapter for Sheena, but it doesn't curb her adventurous spirit. Paul was put on to another ship. It was slightly bigger, which I was happy about. And I did go away with him again, with my daughter. And I can remember taking a playpen with me, which I used to put on deck when the weather was nice, and pop her in the playpen, and I'd lie out there sunbathing, and just went forward with life.

In the years after the shipwreck, it isn't all plain sailing. After several years of marriage, Sheena and Paul decide to go their separate ways. In the years after the shipwreck, it isn't all plain sailing. After several years of marriage, Sheena and Paul decide to go their separate ways. Raising her daughter as a single mom presents its own set of challenges. But she says, if she's taken anything from her terrifying experience in the English Channel, it's an unshakable confidence in her own strength and in her ability to overcome whatever life throws at her. I was always motivated and always strong-willed. What it has done is made me realize that actually I can do anything.

And I don't want Matt to feel arrogant or anything, but you know, problems happen and I can cope with them and get on with life. And I think that experience probably has done that to me. It's made me cope with anything that's come up and move forward. I feel I really stood on my own two feet and got on with life. And yes, a horrible thing happened and horrible things happen to lots of people but you have to use that experience to move forward in life and and cope with these issues and I've done that. I've had issues for the last 50 years on and off but you get on with it and you move forward and you don't always rely on other people to solve the problems for you.

I feel as though I've still got, even at 72, I've got an awful lot of living to do and I don't want anything to get in the way of that. Next time on Real Survival Stories, we meet cowboy and horse wrangler, Leif Vidin. Leif lives a paired back, outdoorsy life, surviving in the remote reaches of Wyoming, frequently hunting his own food. In October 2015, he embarks on an elk-stalking trip into the Wind River Mountains. After days of pursuit, he finally lines up the perfect shot. But when he pulls the trigger, he never expects that he

will soon be the one fighting for his life. As a mysterious set of grisly symptoms take hold, Leaf must dig deep and rely on his loyal horse to carry him to safety before time runs out. That's next time on Real Survival Stories. Listen to Leaf's story today without waiting a week by subscribing to Noiza Plus.