Chapter 4: Suspicion and Survival

As the crew watched him pace, he barked orders to prepare for boarding, his voice now clipped and businesslike. "Everybody, double check gear! No dull am—trouble fit dey!"

While the Nigerian rescue ship dey come, Ghanaian Coast Guard vessels also reached the scene and sent their people to board Okirika Star 2682.

The Ghanaian team arrived with bright orange jackets, faces set like men who’d seen their own share of sea disasters. They greeted the Nigerians with quick, clipped handshakes, then climbed aboard Okirika Star 2682, eyes scanning for trouble.

After confirming the ship no go sink, the Ghanaians gave the crew fresh water, biscuits, bread, and other food. The Ghanaians gave out sachets of water and small loaves of sweet bread—better than the dry garri the Nigerians had left.

The survivors grabbed the supplies like people who hadn’t eaten proper food in years. Some tore open the biscuit packs with shaking hands, others sipped water slowly, eyes darting as if afraid the food might vanish.

During these days, the 11 survivors held several secret meetings back to back.

They gathered in the mess room after midnight, whispering in hurried, anxious tones. One always stood by the door, listening for footsteps. The talk was quick, desperate, heavy with fear. Outside, the wind howled, masking voices and hiding secrets.

On July 29, at 8:20 a.m., Nigerian Fisheries Administration Vessel 118 finally reached the location of the distressed vessel.

As they approached, the battered Okirika Star 2682 floated like a ghost on the water. The rescue crew dressed in full gear, lifejackets strapped tight, heads full of silent questions. They could see men on deck, thin and wary, watching every move.

Nigerian law enforcement officer Musa Lawal and five Ghanaian Coast Guard personnel boarded Okirika Star 2682.

Musa Lawal was a stout, no-nonsense man from Ilorin, known for his sharp eyes and sharper tongue. As he climbed over, his gaze swept the deck, noting every patch, every strange stain. The Ghanaians, guns slung low, kept their voices hushed but alert.

The Ghanaians sent two divers to check the hull under water.

The divers slipped beneath the waves, disappearing into the deep green Atlantic. For a long while, the only sound was the creaking of ropes and the distant slap of waves. Above, the rest waited in tense silence, watching the horizon as if the ocean itself might spit out the missing men.