The Story of a Shipwrecked Sailor

The prologue accompanied the first publication of Márquez’s story about Luis Alejandro Velasco in 1970—a full 15 years after the story’s events. The prologue, therefore, illuminates some of the book’s effects on its contemporary Colombian society. Márquez details the Colombian political environment during the story’s events, as well as the political ramifications of printing a story that revealed a government coverup—ramifications involving the closure of the newspaper employing him. None of this information was included in Velasco’s narration, but it better contextualizes the book, going beyond a simple narration of a shipwrecked sailor. In terms of the narrative, the prologue establishes the setting: 1955, two years after the end of the Korean War, aboard a Colombian destroyer stationed in Alabama. The ship later travels through the Gulf of Mexico towards its ultimate destination of Cartagena, Colombia.

Chapter 1 begins Velasco’s tale. The language is simple and direct. The style is supposed to correspond to Velasco’s manner of speech rather than with Márquez’s because, even though Márquez wrote the story, it was printed under Luis Alejandro Velasco’s name; it needed to come across as Velasco’s voice. The entire narration is in the first-person, i.e., from Velasco’s perspective.

Velasco provides little information about his vessel; however, records indicate that the Caldas was being refitted in Mobile with new cannons: Three Mk30 5-inch, 38 caliber cannons, and 8 (4 twin) Mk2 40mm cannons. It was unknown at the time of the tragedy, but the increased mass of the new armaments also hindered the vessel’s voyage on high seas; and in 1956, the Caldas returned to the United States (Norfolk, Virginia) to again receive refitting to correct the issue. This fact, however, by no means ameliorates the incompetence of the Caldas’s command in failing to prevent the disaster.

The movie, The Caine Mutiny, was first shown in 1954 and is based on the Pulitzer-Prize (1951) winning novel by Herman Wouk. It is a leitmotif for the first four chapters of the book, foreshadowing the events that lead to Velasco being shipwrecked. Márquez uses foreshadowing in this work of nonfiction much as he uses such devices in his fiction. The uneasiness with which Velasco boards the ship adds a sense of trepidation and impending doom to an otherwise predominantly straightforward narration typical in journalism. This leitmotif highlights Márquez’s attempt to combine the creativity of fiction with the matter-of-fact narration necessary for a newspaper where there is limited space to report events. A further example of the meld between journalism and fictional writing appears in the chapter headings and subheadings. Márquez employs sensational statements to grab the reader’s attention. Oftentimes, the headings and subheadings serve as foreshadowing rather than corresponding to the chapters’ contents. Chapter 1’s heading, for example, “How My Shipmates Died at Sea,” hints that the men are going to die; the reader does not discover the actual circumstances of the men’s deaths until Chapter 3.

Despite the journalistic need for factual reporting, space-saving methods, and attention-grabbing headings, Márquez’s language resembles that of fictional narratives. For example, Márquez writes, “Only the green sea and the blue sky stretched out ahead” (10). This description goes beyond the destroyer’s simple location in the Gulf of Mexico: It illustrates a specific image with specific colors unnecessary for factual reporting. The colors of the sea and sky are superfluous to what happened or the ship’s geographical location, yet it is human to notice the colors of the environment, and such emotive elements are a key aspect of storytelling. This is especially true when the writer desires the reader to form an emotional attachment with a character, and, in this case, the description facilitates a reader’s sympathy for Velasco. Similarly, Page 22 reads, “A midday sun, hot and metallic.” A straightforward, prosaic description would simply state the sun was hot. This adjective is common if not trite, used in everyday language—but the word “metallic” evokes other images, removing the sun from its natural state and placing it on a foreign plane. The sun is no longer the expected glowing heat in the sky; it now resembles a hot iron for branding, for burning skin. The sun transforms from something neutral into something inimical, threatening, and non-natural.

The poetic descriptions throughout the story contrast with the otherwise laconic style of narration. Even though Velasco watches helplessly as four of his shipmates drown only meters away, he does not appear to dwell on the fact. Nowhere in the first three chapters does he express remorse for his inability to reach them, nor a sense of loss (which does not mean that he doesn’t feel these emotions; they are simply omitted from the story). In fact, Chapter 2 conveys the death of Miguel Ortega as laconically as possible: “At that moment the ship tilted frighteningly; he [Ortega] was gone” (15). There is no further mention of Ortega. Time plays into the narrative dispassion, in that it is only mere minutes before Velasco is himself overboard. However, the story is recounted months after the tragedy, not during it. At no point does the narration attempt to capture the emotional travail of the seamen on deck. The simplest explanation for this stoic tenor is that journalistic print standards require a story to be trimmed of all but the most important narrative aspects; it was far more important to focus on Velasco’s survival than his emotions, however traumatic.

Despite the narrative’s outward emotional economy, the narration does immerse the reader in the present circumstances of Velasco. On Page 39, Velasco states that while he thought about his comrades from time to time, he also wondered whether some made it to the “other raft, whether the destroyer had picked them up or the planes had located them” (39). It’s unclear to whom Velasco refers when he talks about his mates, but it is clear that he witnessed five of them drown (Miguel Ortega, Luis Rengifo, Ramón Herrera, Julio Caraballo, and Eduardo Castillo). Eight men in total went missing, leaving only two unmentioned. This demonstrates that Velasco doubts whether he actually saw them die; perhaps he only lost sight of them. According to the text, Velasco only witnesses Luis Rengifo sink forever; the others simply disappear. This uncertainty tells much about Velasco’s character; it is the first display of his stupendous resilience of hope, which is vital for his later survival.

Aside from the destroyer’s overburdening with contraband, more naval incompetence is evident in that no life rafts aboard the Caldas were equipped with provisions. Velasco was left to fend for himself for 10 days at sea with only those objects he had about his person, and he had very few objects that could provide any aid. His inventory consists of only four items. This not only demonstrates just how little Velasco has with him to survive, but it also provides insight into his personality and background, which is a further narrative device to establish a connection between the reader and the character. From Velasco’s belongings—the medallion of the Virgin of Carmen—the reader learns that he is Catholic. The Virgin of Carmen is also known as Our Lady of Mount Carmel, or the Virgin of Carmel. She is the Blessed Virgin Mary and the patroness of the Carmelite Order and, most importantly for Velasco, of seamen.

The business cards, while seemingly unimportant, are later important when Velasco is alone and slowly dying at sea, and the cards provide Velasco with a happy memory that buoys his spirits. Hope, an important theme in the book, is crucial for Velasco’s survival. Furthermore, the cards provide a small amount of sustenance for him when he eats one of them. The cards appear again in Chapter 7. The message-in-a-bottle anecdote at the end of Chapter 3 introduces Velasco’s ability to maintain hope. He can concentrate on positive memories and imaginations to keep his spirits high, rather than falling into despair. At the very beginning of his lonely raft voyage, he is already searching for means to enhance his story for when he returns home. His initial thoughts are that rescue is certain; his nature of hopeful expectation will serve him well when things later look grimmer.