"We hope this is Tony Bullimore tapping inside the yacht, but we temper it by the fact that it could be some debris inside the yacht which has broken free and is tapping against the outside of the hull." The cautious words of an Australian navy spokesman, hours before Mr Bullimore bobbed up from underneath his overturned vessel, kept the suspense alive. From the moment that signal changes in his radio beacon began to be noted, the inference was that he had survived; but would he be able to last out until help reached him?
The fact that he did, to the astonishment and delight of millions of people who had watched the drama with dwindling expectation, is the result of a unique combination of technology, human strength and the intangible elements that still seem a miracle. Napoleon once asked of one of his generals, "Is he lucky?" and the question is still relevant in the days of computers, advanced materials and design, satellite communications and pin point location devices. The drama arose from the fact that in spite of all these aids, human life is as frail as it was when men first went to sea on dug out boats.
The moment when the news of Mr Bullimore's rescue flashed across the world can be compared to bother moments when a single event focussed the attention of a huge television audience in an instant - not deeply tragic and foreboding, like Kennedy's assassination, but one of those rare occasions when everyone who heard of it felt a lightening of the spirits, a release of unexpected joy. Mr Bullimore's first words on the RMAS Adelaide, the ebullience of his wife Lalel, the unconcealed satisfaction of the professional team of rescuers who had carried out a successful four day operation, all added up to a good news story of victory seized from disaster. A few more hours, a choppier sea, a relaxation of Mr Bullimore's iron psychological grip, and everything could have ended very differently.
Among the questions which are now to be asked, it is unlikely that the wisdom of single hand yacht races round the world will be an issue. Several other yachtsmen have come to grief in the Vendee Globe race in which Mr Bullimore was taking part and have been rescued - though less spectacularly. The Australian navy has performed a heroic task in saving them, and some voices - perennial ones - have been raised to complain about the cost. But as long as experienced and competent yachtsmen are involved, sailing adequately designed and equipped vessels, any blanket ban would be as perverse as it would be difficult to enforce. Sailing is one of the most rational and skilful ways of pitting oneself against the forces of nature.
On the other hand, there are many lessons to be drawn from Mr Bullimore's ordeal, and from the experiences of Mr Thierry Dubois, rescued a few hours before, and Mr Raphael Dinelli, another luckless competitor. Is safety being shaved in order to get a marginal increase of speed by using too light materials? Is enough attention being paid to survival requirements at the design stage? Mr Bullimore seemingly possesses exceptional mental and practical abilities would someone else have managed to endure the pressures, physical and psychological, of his open ended wait? One can never know, of course, until such a challenge arises, which is why there is unfailing fascination in epics of this kind.