Sleepwalking is a common affliction. It is a condition that as a teenager I learned to live and much later came close to causing a dreadful death.

Earlier episodes of sleepwalking were no more threatening than confusing the wardrobe with the bathroom door or going downstairs to the kitchen. The condition was hardly the end of the world.

However, the end of my world nearly occurred when our freighter was no more than a blip on the radar as it crossed the Gulf of Mexico aka The Bermuda Triangle during the early hours of the morning.

I recall only that long after midnight the sky that night was a silent star-filled dome. The surrounding sea to the edges of the horizon was sombre, silent and broken only by the phosphorous wake as the ship slowly chugged across the vast emptiness of the ocean towards Panama.

My other recollection was of awakening and gathering my wits realising almost too late that I was straddling the ship’s rail.

RIGHT: Michael Walsh ex-seaman and author.

During my sleepwalking state, I had made my way from my afterdeck cabin to the stern of the vessel.

Reaching the stern, perhaps dreaming that I was clambering over or straddling a stile or garden fence I was poised to plunge into the Sargasso Sea.

As I came to my senses, I grasped that my left leg was dangling over the sea with my right leg still on board. I was a split second from plummeting into the limitless sea as I completed my scramble over the imaginary stile.

Unless one’s fall is observed in which case the wheelhouse would immediately be informed it would be far too late to recover the man overboard. A ship will travel about 15 miles in an hour by which time it is over the horizon.

Furthermore, unlike a car, because of wind and currents a vessel cannot return along the same path.

MV KING ARTHUR. Several British and Belgian deckies enjoy a break.

Besides, imagine searching for a distressed seaman in such a vast watery desert when his visible head is the size of a bobbing football.

It would be hopeless enough during the day but throughout the hours of darkness, the loss of a crew member would go unnoticed for several hours.

Had I at that moment plunged into the sea there could be no possibility of my being rescued; I would face the most miserable death imaginable.

Over time countless seamen sleepwalk to the loneliest and most poignant deaths imaginable. I missed such a fate through the timely intervention of my exhausted Guardian Angel.

At the time, I read a story about a Scandinavian seaman who had suffered such a fate whilst sleepwalking. Much less lucky than I was, he had woken in the water to see the stern lights of his ship disappearing in the darkness.

For three days and nights, he had doggy-paddled and floated. Finally, he had the good fortune to be close enough to a passing steamer to hail the crew and despite the noise of its throbbing engines be heard. He was the luckiest man ~ alive. PLEASE SHARE OUR STORIES.

NOTE This true story is one of 70 true stories in The Leaving of Liverpool by ex-mariner Michael Walsh. Available on Amazon and LULU online booksellers. LOW PRICES: LULU charge much less than Amazon and delivery is much quicker.

THE LEAVING OF LIVERPOOL  ex-Liverpool seaman Michael Walsh. Bestseller: 70 stories and over 100 pictures. A first-hand account of the British ships, seafarers, adventures and misadventures (1955 – 1975). A tribute to the ships and seamen of the then-largest merchant marine in history. LINKS TO BOOK → LULU.COM    AMAZON.CO.UK 

ALL I ASK IS A TALL SHIP  Hauntingly illustrated a captivating chronicle of life penned by a son of the seven seas evoked from worldwide voyages during the 1950s and 1960s. The Bard of the Sea has spun a captivating treasure chest of delightful verse that captures hearts and souls worldwide. LINKS TO BOOK → LULU.COM   AMAZON.CO.UK