Ruby Anderson

But as Glenn watches his yacht rise and fall with the motion of the sea, he spots another monstrous wave roll in.

Glenn can only watch in dismay as his beloved boat's sleek white hull drops below the waterline.

Before slipping beneath the waves, the three crew members on board fasten their life jackets and hurl themselves into the ocean.

Within seconds, all that remains of the Impala II is the tip of her 40-foot mast, and then she is gone, swallowed by the sea.

Glenn and Ruby struggle over to where the other three are bobbing amid the debris of the sunk boat.

But there is one member of the crew missing.

They scour the murky, debris-filled water, praying to catch sight of the little dog.

But there is no sign.

And I just said, look, he's gone.

First things first, they assess their injuries.

Fortunately, nobody seems to have sustained anything critical beyond a few cuts and bruises.

Dane suspects he might have broken a rib.

For his part, Glenn has suffered a nasty gash to his forehead.

Blood runs down his face in crimson ribbons.

Then Ruby's voice pipes up, barely audible beneath the waves.

Ruby's shin has cracked in two, splintered by the impact against the side of the boat.

Glenn looks at his daughter, who is visibly fighting to ignore the volleys of pain that must surely be firing through her limb.

Having established the extent of Ruby's injuries, the need to reach safety is even more urgent.

Glenn looks around.

He reckons they're probably about four kilometers from the mainland, about two and a half miles, but separated from shore by a shallow reef.