"There's

an emergency in progress."

The tone of

Dave's voice was one of interest, not panic, so I knew it

wasn't us. "First real emergency we've picked up in

years," he mused.

I came

forward from the stern to listen, the ex-paramedic in me

paying close attention. As the law requires, we were

monitoring emergency channel 16, but switched to 24 when

Coast Guard Group Mayport asked the captain calling for

help to do so. The Coast Guard's high antenna at the

mouth of Florida's St. John's River put out a signal we

could easily hear 30 air miles away on the river near

Green Cove Springs, but we could not hear the other end

of the dialogue.

Base

command's calm, insistent questions provided clues for

what had happened. A 21-foot pleasure craft - named,

probably to irritate a wife, "Wet Dream" -

had gone out for some early morning diving when a mishap

occurred. "Pleasure craft Wet Dream, this is Mayport

Group. Is the diver still down or is he out of the

water?" the voice of the Coast Guard asked. Pause

for response.

"Wet

Dream, this is Mayport Group. Is he unconscious?"

Pause. "Wet Dream, this is Mayport Group. What is

the diver's name, age and sex?" Pause. "Wet

Dream, this is Mayport Group. Captain, can you give me

your present lat-long?" Pause. "Wet Dream, this

is Mayport Group. Do you have someone certified in

CPR?"

Each

question had to be asked several times. We thought the

small boat's occupants may have been panicky, but once

Mayport's rescue vessel 458 reached them, we understood

that it was difficult to hear even the strong Coast Guard

signal over the roar of an engine at full throttle.

Basic

information transmitted between parties in the rescue

boiled down to this: The diver was a male, 17,

unconscious and going into shock, and the Wet Dream was

27 miles out, heading for shore. While 458 was en route,

the command center explored the possibility of getting a

helicopter to the scene. Weather apparently prevented the

Coast Guard helo from deploying. Hard to believe.

We were now

on glassy water, under milky skies, but earlier there was

a haze on the river, and we could imagine a fog bank

obscuring the colder Atlantic. "Four-five-eight,

this is Group. Navy's got two helos en route your

location, will have to do a lift." But the Coast

Guard boat rendezvoused with Wet Dream, picked up the

diver and was making good time back to Mayport. The Navy

choppers were diverted to the Coast Guard station and we

heard a woman's voice advise that someone with a

hand-held radio was on the roof to guide them down.

"Four-five-eight,

this is Group. What is the patient's status? We've got

his father on the phone." Unable to hear the Coast

Guard's small craft's response, we could only hope for

the best. What an agonizing Sunday morning this had

become for some family on shore. Anyone serious about

coastal boating quickly develops great respect for the

Coast Guard whose radio presence is competent, courteous

and authoritative.

But the

Coast Guard does not suffer fools gladly. Years ago, we

were on Pensacola Bay when we heard with startling

clarity a call of "Mayday! Mayday!" Looking

around, we saw a large pleasure craft drifting

purposelessly, with four men aboard. They were out of

gas, they said, and drifting toward the ocean. Seas were

calm, they had not tried to anchor and were in no

immediate danger.

The Coast

Guard informed them they would not dispatch a rescue

craft, but would send some fuel via commercial tow. It

was apparent the four amateurs thought they were entitled

to free service from the feds.

You can

spend days on the water and never hear the Coast Guard

but for their twice-daily updates of unusual conditions.

But Dave remembers a day that had the makings of a

multiple tragedy. He was sailing in the Gulf off

Pensacola when he heard a report that a small boat with

four people aboard had overturned. A nearby fisherman

called it in and began pulling people out of the water.

On that occasion, after determining that all the boaters

were accounted for, the Coast Guard asked for the color

of the bottom of the capsized boat, how many life jackets

each craft had on board, and whether both rescuers and

rescuees were wearing them.

Suddenly,

another call of "Mayday!" - a couple

reporting that most frightening of events, fire on board.

Then they reported they'd put it out, but were drifting

in open ocean without power. The Coast Guard sent their

rescue boat that time, probably because the couple was,

don't know how old they actually were, I take comfort in

thinking that the feds might send my generation help.

Dave and I thought we'd have to go ashore next day and

buy a paper to learn the outcome of the current mishap,

there was one more transmission: "Vessel calling

Coast Guard Mayport Group, this is Mayport Group. Go

ahead." Pause. "Vessel calling Mayport Group.

The diver has been transported to the hospital at this

time. Diver was unconscious, but regained consciousness

during transport. Mayport Group, roger, out."

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