It's September 4, 1974, 1974, 1974.

Dawn.

Piercing squalls cut across the chilly, fog-mantled waters of the English Channel,

the busiest shipping lane in the world.

Beneath a dingy white sky, rolling breakers span the length of the horizon.

Massive, slow-moving undulations, cobwebbed with foam, thundering in the mist.

For the huge container ships that traverse these waters,s like this make crossings uncomfortable.

For anything smaller, they can be deadly.

In the middle of the channel, about 14 miles from the French coast,

the evidence of a recent catastrophic shipwreck drifts on the surface of the sea.

Flotsam and jetsam tumble about in the surf,

a piece of rigging, a torn fragment of tarp, cracked wood and twisting metal,

all but remains of the merchant vessel who nests as it is consumed by the water.

And thrashing amongst the waves, who nest as it is consumed by the water.

And thrashing amongst the waves and the debris is 20-year-old Sheena Levitt.

Coughing, panting, trying to get her bearings, Sheena combs around in the devastation, attempting to work out where she is.

Minutes ago, she was aboard her ship.

Now, chaos rains.

Terrible weather, wreckage everywhere.

You can imagine with these huge rollers, these huge waves, bits of wood, crashing down, and they're heavy.

So if one of those hits you, that would probably be the end of you.

Keeping her head above the constantly shifting surface is almost impossible.

...