When everyone had left the upper decks, they had congregated on Deck 10, where the pool is located. It was only a couple of floors below, and their sheer numbers posed a danger. It was an open deck, covered only by some, let’s call them canopies, where the sun loungers were. In the event of an emergency, if a load were to detach or a similar incident occurred, none of them would be safe. Essentially, the pilot deemed the situation unsafe, so we had to address that as well. Once again, the guests had to be moved. After a delay of about ten minutes, we were finally ready. Everything was deserted, waiting for the start. The information was relayed over the radio, and the helicopter was ready to go once more.

This time, we noticed it approaching with a payload. A large net was tethered to it by a cable, carrying what represented life itself for us—water and food. It approached slowly, but this time there was no pause. It didn’t stop; it crept cautiously toward our ship. Closer and closer, and consequently, the situation became increasingly dangerous. I could see this for myself because I was very close. Everywhere around us, around that space, were cables. They were the “anchors” for the ship’s famous tail—its symbol. But now, both that tail and those cables represented a massive hazard. The pilot had to be maximally careful not to make contact with them, as he had to descend very low, to just some five or ten meters above the deck.

To make matters worse, the ship was very unstable under the impact of the waves and ocean currents, heaving up and down by as much as a meter. That single meter could be the boundary between success and catastrophe. I really must highlight the mastery of the pilot at the controls. Even the slightest mistake could have cost us all dearly. It could have literally brought the helicopter down.

But he didn’t give up.

Inch by inch, the helicopter descended until it reached the right position. It was so close that I could easily read the pilot’s name on the door. As is the custom in aviation, the names of the crew are painted on the fuselage. Not to use his real name, I’ll say the pilot’s call sign was WOOKIE.

Everything was so close and real that scenes from the classic “Top Gun” flashed before my eyes. We just needed to blast the legendary soundtrack over the PA, and we would have been in the movie. Following instructions from the signalmen on deck, Wookie reached the lowest point. He got the signal to hold and release the cable. Once that was executed, new signals followed from the navigator, instructing him to throttle up and bank right, away from the ship.