Vindication Swim (2024)

[bunniefuu]

The sea is calling.

Its abs and flows beckon me to return to

its embrace.

The winds and tides whisper my name as

they draw a veneerah.

But do not fear the water.

Natsidis, my daughter, my child.

Do not fear to lose sight

of the shore, for I will

wait for you on the other

side of the dark waters.

Let them carry you, Natsidis.

Let the waves draw you home.

Let them carry you, Natsidis.

Let them carry you home.

The sea is calling.

Draw a veneerah.

Let them carry you, Natsidis.

Let them carry you, Natsidis.

Let them carry you, Natsidis.

Let them carry you, Natsidis.

Champion, Miss Gertrude Eddley,

today made history.

Becoming the first ever lady to conquer

the English Channel.

Following an intensive training regime in

her native New Jersey, the American

entered the chilly waters of Cap Rene

early Saturday morning, and for the next

forty hours and thirty-one minutes,

battled against the waves, filled with

enough grit and determination to see her

through to Dover.

While the Americans revel in the glory of

their new Queen of the waves, news of her

victory will surely come as a blow to

Britain's female Channel hosts.

I finished the shipping report you asked

for.

Leave it on the desk.

Is that all?

Yes, that's all.

Dear Sir Arthur, I understand that you

were looking to sponsor a British woman in

an English Channel

swim, now that we've been

beaten by the Americans

in our own backyard.

No doubt you are aware that I was so very

close to becoming the first ever woman to

complete the feat in my seventh attempt

last year.

I would have tried again that summer if

I'd had the funds to do so.

Still, this time has given me the ability

to rebuild my stamina at the Hobon Bath,

where I train each evening without fail

around my work as a stenographer.

It is dull work, poorly paid, and I cannot

slake my desire for the Channel.

With each tap of the key, I hear the

splash of the sea.

Every waking hour I dream of the water.

What once compelled me as a girl now

consumes me as a woman.

Despite the loss to

Gertrude Edelie this

summer, I remain firm

and resolute in mindset.

To become the first

British woman to swim the

English Channel would be

for me the greatest honour.

Yours faithfully, Mercedes Gleitz.

Excuse me, madam.

Miss Gleitz?

Yes.

Thank you.

Wait here, please.

And I'll fetch you once they're ready.

Yes, of course.

Right away, sir.

Gade's medical results, sir, requires your

signature.

Sir Arthur Coleridge?

Yes, my dear.

Apologies for the intrusion.

I am Mercedes Gleitz.

I have been corresponding with you in

regards to a Channel swim.

I frankly can't understand why I'm not

even being considered.

In your letter of rejection you failed to

acknowledge any of my achievements.

So I've come here to ask you what more can

I possibly do?

Look, my dear, sponsorship

for such a swim cannot

be granted on a whim to

any lady who comes looking.

There are certain attributes which must be

considered.

Such as?

Well, you see, the Association have

already selected their sponsor.

A fine lady by the name of Mrs. Edith

Gade.

In fact, she resigned her

post as a doctor at King's

College Hospital in order to

take up her sponsorship offer.

There is also the issue of your name.

You see, Miss Gleitz, for a woman of your

circumstances, it would be neither

suitable nor appropriate for us to sponsor

you at this time.

If only they knew how much you loved this

country.

I knew how you know, Edith Gade.

She was on my staff at Weimar during the

w*r.

Only lasted three months before she was

struck off the register and how she was

readmitted to King's College, God only

knows.

Now breathe in for me.

And exhale.

Breathe in.

And exhale.

You're back to fighting fit.

Ever considered changing the name to

something more Anglicised?

No, I shouldn't need to.

I was born here for heaven's sake.

Look, there is an old client of mine,

Mr Harold Best.

Harold Best?

Didn't he swim the channel?

He did.

He dropped off the map

after the w*r, but I feel you

might be able to coax him

out of his self-imposed exile.

Mr Best?

Hello?

Mr Best?

What's the nature of your calling?

I'm looking for Mr Best.

I know that.

What for?

I'm told he might be able to train me.

Well, he ain't here.

But if you're ill-bent, you might try the

volunteer.

Thank you.

I'm looking for Mr Best.

I'm told I might find him here.

You mean old Harold Best?

That's him, over in the corner.

Thank you.

You've not been previously acquainted.

No.

My name is Mercedes Gleitz.

I'm a swimmer, and I'm told you might

train me.

I don't train anymore.

Especially not girls.

Well, I can assure you, I will make it

worth your while.

I intend to do everything.

I do not train girls.

Now, sling your hook.

Fine.

In your current state, you could hardly

teach a fish to swim, let alone a girl.

Good day, Mr Best.

Your pronouncements will someday land you

in a whole heap of bother.

It's not done so already.

A ransom will roar.

Like true British sailors.

A ransom will roar.

All over the salt sea.

Until we find landings.

In the Channel of Holdingland.

From ushen to silly.

Is 35 Leagues.

It's so risque.

That's vital.

They really reveal all.

There's everything.

That's right.

Very naughty.

Sure.

It's just not proper.

She wants to strip off and dive in that

god-awful water.

Well, it's downright dangerous.

She ought to go back to being a real

woman.

Maybe she can't.

My doctor says it can unsex a woman or

that physically strain on the body.

It's obscene.

Ah,

Mr. Deitz.

I understand you speak German and can

write in shorthand.

Is that correct?

Yes.

I'm fluent in German and somewhat with a

stenography.

Good.

In that case, I shall need you to work

linked tomorrow night.

Is that all right?

Yes.

Yes, that should be fine.

Excellent.

See you then.

How long

have you been with us now, Miss Kletz?

Just shy of two years, I believe.

Two years?

Really?

I don't smoke, thank you.

And you live alone, I believe.

Yes, I do.

Such a pity.

It really would be a tragedy if a beautiful

girl like you would be left on the shelf.

As it were.

I must confess, many a

day I've seen you in here

and given thought to

stealing a kiss myself.

If it's not too bold to say.

It's Mercedes, isn't it?

It's Miss Kletz, and that's his too bold.

You have a sharp tongue.

You know, I've had a lot of girls working

for me in here.

They come and they go.

But the ones who do best in this company

tend to adopt a more friendly attitude.

I suggest you go away and think about

that.

Miss Kletz.

We'll go on.

And be warm.

What's the verdict?

Well, the wind's kicking up about 12

knots.

She looks gentle here, but we're clear of

the harbour wall.

You'll feel it, Gustin, true enough.

And she's meant to pick up around the day,

too.

But you can never tell with the sea.

Can she make the swim?

She'll be fine.

Fine, this northerly don't shift to her

south-south-west.

With that, she could compete against time

and tide.

I

think it's about four miles, not course.

Well, keep her steady, dammit!

She should turn around and try again come

August.

We are not turning back.

This weather will pass my sundown.

She'll never make it.

She has to try!

Now keep her steady!

Strong south-westerly has blown in,

which, matched with the Ebb tide,

is putting us dangerously close to the

shoals of Goodwin sand.

However, despite conditions, enough to

deter even the most steadfast sailor,

Miss Gright's spirits remain high as she

breaks on relentlessly against the current.

5pm, and we're still too clear halfway.

I'm told by the oarsmen

that we've missed the tide,

which will add another

six hours onto the swim.

Are you sure you want to carry on with all

this?

The night will soon be upon us,

and we're still nine miles from shore.

There's no shame in quitting.

No!

I'm not quitting!

Not now!

I've got to make it!

I've got to!

Get her out!

Quick!

I've got to make it!

What is it?

It's my shoulder!

And you really think you've got a chance

at swimming the channel?

I'll have you know I'm not

some bored housewife who one

Sunday decided she wanted

to attempt to channel swim.

I'm deadly serious.

Hell bent, you might say.

Well, let's see you take to the water

then.

All right.

So, what changed your mind?

You remind me of someone that I knew a

long time ago.

May I ask who?

No, you may not.

I know you said that money is tight.

It's not why I'm doing it.

You can pay me back out of your winnings.

I want it understood.

You may think that you got close last

time.

Cold, extreme fatigue.

It's best at the strongest of men.

Well, thank God I'm a woman.

Amateur swimming association

Swansea, Mrs. Edith Gate,

was seen here at a fundraising

ball held in her honour.

An English rose with a smile to mesmerise

the nation.

The slender swimmer was joined by

Association President Sir Arthur Colerich,

who relayed his confidence

and spoke of his desire to help

raise the prestige of Britain's

lady channel swimmers.

The battle between Britain's bathing

beauties entered a new stage today, with Mrs.

Edith Gate's arrival in Dover

alongside husband and trainer,

Mr. Samuel Huntington, ahead of rival

swimmer, Miss Gleitz.

When asked if she felt any reluctance in

competing against seven-time attemptee,

Miss Gleitz, Gate simply replied,

may the best woman win.

Coming.

My resignation.

You can't quit.

You have no husband.

Besides your employment here, you have

nothing.

What on earth do you intend to do?

I'm going to swim the channel.

Good day.

I've got just two suits.

No class homie, I'm afraid.

Waved off from some tanker station,

Miss Gleitz today departed from London,

bound for the Dover

coast, in preparation for

what will be her eighth

attempt at a channel swim.

Accompanying the pretty young typist,

trainer Harold Best, who swam the channel

himself in 1911, and

was for a time lauded as

Britain's finest swimmer

since Captain Webb.

What many a superstitious mariner may

mistake for a mermaid, the swimming beauty

seen in folks in harbour is, in fact,

Miss Gleitz, sticking to her rigorous

training regime and sharing

no fear of submerging

herself beneath the

chilly harbour waters.

Although with Miss Gleitz going

head-to-head with Mrs. Gate in the race

for the channel, it

certainly doesn't appear as

if it will be any cooler in

the water this summer.

Miss Gleitz.

Can I help you?

My name is Mr. Habers, and I've been sent

to deliver this to you, courtesy of Mr.

Huntington.

He helps you find a satisfactory

compensation, and politely requests you

return to London that she really is

convenient.

And why would I want to do that?

Well, I think you'll find Mr. Huntington's

been extremely generous.

In his offer, I wager the

amount far it sees such which

someone such as yourself

would usually be akin to.

Someone such as myself?

In this country, Miss Gleitz, an unmarried

woman at your age, raises suspicion.

Yeah, and five years cavorting around in a

one-piece has done nothing to dispel that.

Isn't it best you step aside now and avoid

further humiliation, losing to Mrs. Gate?

Perhaps even if you

reverse-defining her husband, the

money can at least afford

you a sense of propriety.

Well, Mr. Habers, when you put it like

that, it does make an awful lot of sense.

Despite being new to the

sport, I'm sure Mrs. Gate's

integrity alone will see

her across the finish line.

Should you need it, I could escort you to

the railway station tomorrow morning.

That won't be necessary.

As you wish.

Perhaps you could give me the name of Mr.

Huntington's hotel.

I should like to write to him personally,

to thank him for his generosity.

The seapro-cutter.

Samuel Huntington, I presume?

May I help you?

I believe this belongs to you.

You're not even able to buy the ASA,

but you can't buy me.

As to the finish, then, Miss Gleitz.

What does Alice ensunced?

I don't know.

I don't know what to say.

A fitting farewell at Dover Harbor today,

as Miss Mercedes Gleitz sets off to France

to undertake her eighth attempt at the

channel.

Following the havoc wreaked upon the

swimming season by the tempestuous

weather, Miss Gleitz will attempt to swim

back in the direction of England,

hoping to beat the southwesterly winds.

Undaunted by the prospect of making a swim

so late in the season, the gamble may well

land victory for the plucky former typist,

as news comes of Mrs. Gade's departure

from the race in response to this summer's

storms.

Bonjour.

Salut.

Bonjour.

Bonjour.

Bonjour.

Bonjour.

Nice?

Bonjour, mr.

Vistas, always.

How?

Do you want to

The conditions tomorrow should be nigh on

perfect.

So by so westerly blowing nip tight to

boot It should be flat as a mill pond.

What if I don't make it?

Oh, I'll wager you can arrive at a

thousand reasons why you won't.

All you have to do is hang on to the one

that says you can.

Only there, you know, just beyond the

horizon.

For hour after hour, you'll be kicking

away at the ocean.

Then you reach that point, you raise your

head out of the water, and you see it.

See what?

White cliffs.

It's when you know you've made it.

Why did you stop swimming?

I mean, you had it all.

You were the best swimmer in the world,

and then you just left it all behind.

The sea gave me everything, and it took it

all away.

My son joined the navy.

As soon as he came of age, he served as

signalman aboard SS Mendy.

21st of February, 1917, she was

struck by a merchant vessel off St.

Catherine's Point.

Went down in eight minutes.

My boy went down with her.

My wife, Margaret, couldn't take the pain.

Loss of her only son.

Your deal took her mind.

Then took her life.

I

wanted to thank you for everything.

This is all I've got.

25 fathoms.

We're falling behind.

Here.

I was tied.

Can anyone lay eyes on the swimmer?

I can't spot her for all this glare.

Here.

There she is.

Two o'clock off the starboard bow.

Steamer, head is straight for us.

Quickly, boy!

Go on!

Quickly.

What the hell?!

What?!

All those chairs!

What?!

All those chairs!

Can you do it?!

What?!

What are those chairs?!

Where?!

What's changing?!

Faster!

Capture!

Capture!

Come on!

Quickly!

Swim!

There's a boat there ahead.

Take it slowly.

Mercedes!

Fire at the river!

Fire at the...

Watch!

Don't go!

My heart is on the starboard!

Come on, Mercedes!

Come!

Come!

Go!

Hold fast and watch the wake!

Stay calm!

Stay calm!

Swim!

Clear!

Ahoy!

Hey!

What are you doing here?

We are approaching the Cte d'Angre Terre,

but we are going three miles.

Thank you, monsieur.

Come on, let's go.

Buddy!

Sit down.

Sit down.

You don't want it.

Oh, come on.

Miss Mercedes Gleitz, the pretty young

typist, today claimed victory over the

English Channel on what

was her eighth attempt

at navigating the water

between Calais and Dover.

Tucking down on St. Margaret's Bay at ten

minutes past six in the evening,

the plucky swimmer spent her grueling

fifteen hours and fifteen minutes at sea

battling strong currents

and jellyfish stings as she

made her way across the

world's busiest shipping lane.

Having proved herself to be a swimmer

worth her salt, Miss Gleitz will go down

in history as the first British woman to

ever swim the English Channel.

The Home Secretary today met with Miss

Mercedes Gleitz at his offices in Whitehall.

The swimmer pledged support for his equal

franchise bill, which would bring about

equal voting rights for

women nationwide and lower

the female voting age

from thirty to twenty-one.

And, strange prospect, do you

expect having your boys transmitted

by wireless into the home

of every man in the country?

Yes, it is a little strange.

I find it's rather like the white cliffs.

You know they're there, but you can't

quite see them all the same.

I ask, indeed.

Now tell us, if you will,

what was it exactly that

led you to decide to

swim the English Channel?

I suppose it's a lure of the water.

We are all drawn to the sea.

It hugs back to the first days of human

exploration.

That sense of not knowing what lies beyond,

but yearning to find out nonetheless.

Ever since I was a girl, I've had a

longing for the water.

To swim, for me, is like nothing else in

the world.

I understand the water,

its movements, its rhythm,

and sometimes I fancy

it understands me too.

Having traded pebbles for pearls,

Channel Swimmer Mercedes Gleitz was seen

sporting an elegance contrary to her usual

swimming attire.

At the London premiere of the new VB

Daniels Notion picture, Swim Girl Swim.

Miss Gleitz was welcomed at the special

guest on thread carpet of the romantic

comedy picture about two ladies involved

in the world of channel swimming.

Featuring a cameo appearance from fellow

channel champions, Miss Gertrude Edelman.

Well, it's lovely to be back in London.

And it's lovely to see so many of you turn

out tonight for the movie.

Hello?

There has been a development.

Miss Edith Gaye splashed onto the sands of

St Margaret's Bay at low tide this morning

following the shock completion of an

English channel swim.

Believed to have withdrawn

from the race, Gaye's spontaneous

appearance has rocked the

boat of the swimming world.

In a record time of 13 hours and 10

minutes, the slender swimmer triumphed

over temperatures well below that which

any normal body, male or female,

could feasibly endure for any prolonged

period.

Her swim, too, comes just a short while

after fellow lady swimmer Miss Mercedes

Gleitz also completed a crossing in

October.

When asked on the shore about how her

victory felt, Mrs Gaye simply replied,

tiring, but went on to thank her team and

added, that I suppose it goes to show that

indeed anyone can swim the English

channel.

I don't see this should affect anything

much.

It's still the first English woman to swim

in.

Because time, true enough, but affect

anything much, that remains.

You saw it first, failed to see how she

jeopardized that in form.

I can assure you, that woman's not to be

trusted.

Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great

pleasure to bring to you a pair of ladies

who need no introduction, but I shall give

them one regardless.

It was said that for a woman to swim the

channel, it was an impossible feat.

Now, this summer of 27, we see not one,

but two homegrown ladies conquer the sea.

One of you now holds the

record as the fastest ever

channel swimmer at a time

of 13 hours and 10 minutes.

And the other, an equally impressive 15

hours and 15 minutes.

So, without further ado, for this

evening's honourable guest, please put

their hands together in vigorous

applause for Miss Mercedes Glatz and Mrs.

Edith g*y.

Have a wonderful evening and enjoy the

band.

Coming.

Gentlemen, ladies, I'm afraid you have to

excuse me.

There's something I must attend to.

Well, Mercedes, nice to put a face to the

name.

A far cry from the pretty young typist.

Who would have thought

a girl from such humble

beginnings would achieve

such sporting success?

Surely, once back, it is of little

consequence.

You yourself said that anyone can swim the

channel.

You said press, so you do not believe it

then.

I haven't really paid a day's thought.

Why do you ask?

I suppose I just find it odd that you would

make such a profound claim to the press.

Then not actually believe in it.

Well, perhaps I do believe in it.

Well, do you?

I suppose that, yes, anyone can

theoretically swim the channel.

Don't you agree, Miss Blytes?

No.

It takes a great deal more

than a theoretical belief

in swimming the channel

to make it in practice.

I mean, how can you theoretically account

for the cold?

Or the tide?

Surely it's of little consequence.

The swim was made, and as far as I'm

concerned, that's all that matters.

Perhaps.

Well, fifteen hours at sea is ample time

for thinking.

You certainly seem to have an opinion on

most things.

And a quiet and new taste for champagne,

I see.

Touche.

But then again, I could hardly hold a

candle to your drinking abilities.

What do you mean?

I was just surprised to see you drinking

champagne so effortlessly, immediately

after swimming for thirteen hours and ten

minutes.

Oh, I see.

And not a shiver in sight.

I'm sorry.

Your hands.

They didn't tremble at all when you took

the glass.

It was quite remarkable.

Especially when I could hardly hold up my

own head.

My head is spinning with all this chatter.

I must be excused.

I need to go and powder my nose.

My apologies.

I didn't mean to cause discomfort.

I did only complete the swim a couple of

days ago, and I applaud your efforts.

I really do.

Fastest woman in the world.

You're too kind, really.

Enjoy the rest of your night.

Samuel, darling.

Why did you do that?

She found a way to get under your skin.

True enough.

But to take the bait.

You saw the picture show.

She strode out the beach as if she'd just

been for a paddle.

No sooner has she left the water.

She's there swooning around.

No sign of fatigue whatsoever.

You know there's rationale to what I'm

saying.

But even if you're hypothetically right,

and she didn't actually make the full

swim, for you, a fellow

swimmer, to come forward

and make such an

accusation, what don't you see?

It's suicide.

You know how people will look at you.

I imagine.

Not so different from the way they

perceive me now.

I'm paraded out, blasted on

advertisements.

And don't go thinking.

There's pure on account of my talents in

the water.

Well, you signed up to swim the channel.

You knew exactly what it would entail.

I signed up to be a swimmer, not a pin-up

girl, Harold.

No, please, please,

don't pretend that you're

again all the fame

that this has given you.

Pull over, please.

What are you doing?

It's a nice evening.

I think I shall walk.

Thank you very much.

Allergation, Sir Deverge,

casting doubt upon the plausibility

of the channel attempt

undertaken by Mrs. Edith Gade.

Your sense of the swim came under scrutiny

following revelations by photographer Mr.

P.J.

Templeton, who came forward alleging he

was offered a substantial financial sum by

Mrs. Gade's husband

in return for forged

pictures documenting

various stages of the swim.

I was offered 400 to

photograph Mrs. Gade in the water,

just offshore, and accompany

them by boat across the channel.

Whereupon I returned to the water, I would

take pictures of her arrival in Dover.

I'm coming!

Also placed

under scrutiny in light of the hoax is

amateur swimming association president Sir

Arthur Coleridge, who

championed Mrs. Gade and

drew the association

was her official sponsor.

However, the panel

later found Sir Arthur to be

absolved of conspiracy in

connection to the Gade case.

In what has been termed the hoax of the

century, Mrs. Gade and her husband were

fined 100 each for swearing to a false

affidavit.

I'd like to take this opportunity to

apologize to the British public,

whom I've deceived, and the amateur

swimming association, whose good name I

have tarnished in my unfounded

and wholly fabricated claims of

a successful channel swim that

let it be stated here on record.

What I sought to prove through my hoax was

that indeed anyone can claim a channel

swim, regardless of whether such an

endeavor was completed.

Once again, I apologize most sincerely for

my actions.

And shall resign myself from the world of

open water swimming.

They're having your pee before the

tribunal.

We'll both have to testify

in order to prove and

confirm that you did

indeed complete the swim.

I don't understand.

They're worried that you... Also

fabricated particulars of your swim.

In their eyes, they've caught her,

so another woman swimmer, caving the same

feet mere weeks prior...

Will arouse suspicion.

The association has a reputation to

uphold.

They've already adopted a new constitution

in response to all this.

They can't do this.

Don't worry.

We'll go in there together.

I'll protest your innocence.

Now, you need to get some rest.

All right.

And, Harold?

Good night.

It's not your fault.

It's not your fault.

It's not your fault.

It's not your fault.

Now, remember.

Speak only when you've spoken to.

And don't try to keep your head.

The panel will look disfavorably upon a

woman who speaks out.

That's just the nature of it, I'm afraid.

Ms. Gleitz, do you need an English word?

The Channel Swimming Association will

begin deliberation today on the case of

Ms. Gleitz, attesting to the legitimacy of

her English channel swim.

The former typist was cross-examined by

the panel, along with trainer Harold Best.

The integrity of Ms. Gleitz was

thrown into doubt as the panel

probed into her previous

failed attempts at the crossing.

Dr. H.W.

Phillips, Ms. Gleitz's longtime physician,

who was present on all eight swims,

was brought forward to provide his medical

documents as evidence in the case.

The purpose of this hearing shall be to

examine.

It is the prerogative of the panel to

examine that which is brought before us,

and to arrive at a solid judgement.

Indeed, Madam, was there

even a registered member of the

CSA aboard the pilot vessel

for the duration of the swim?

No, there was not.

And was an official present

at either the stepping off into

the water at Capri's Nest or

at the completion in Dover?

No.

First, there has to be a complete

violation of CSA rules and

strong grounds for the

revocation of Ms. Gleitz's record.

Mr Chairman, would you be so kind as to

note that my learned friend has made a

number of inaccurate assumptions in his

pronouncements?

And owing to his uncertainty

in these matters, what

he has said ought to

be struck from the record.

Sit down!

Please, Mr Best, on what grounds might his

suppositions constitute such action?

Well, in fact, at the time

of Ms. Gleitz's swim, the

official regulations of the CSA

had not yet come into effect.

So the swim was, in fact,

completed within the bounds

of legality for the time

at which it took place.

Very well.

But the fact still remains, there is an

innate lack of...

I don't even validate the swim.

Take my title.

It doesn't matter what they call you.

What matters is what you do.

But that's the problem.

They don't believe I did it.

Then make them believe.

But you don't understand.

I can't.

I don't see you've got a choice.

Harold?

Mercedes?

Is that you?

Edith, why are you calling me?

What more could you possibly want from me?

I called to tell you that what I did had

nothing to do with you.

I'll never understand why you did this.

When you know full well I did swim the

town.

I know you did.

But they'll never believe you.

I'm sorry, Mercedes.

Seems to me you've got two choices.

One, you can change your name, move to

the country, nor speak of swimming again.

Or two, you can face those b*stards

head-on, show them what you know to be

true, that you can swim the English

Channel.

Miss Gleitz has a statement she has

prepared.

Now, I understand your concern,

perhaps more so than my coach.

I'm of the opinion that to continue

further would be futile.

And therefore, I will no longer seek to

protest my case before this tribune.

Instead, I shall vindicate myself through

the undertaking of another swim,

and if I succeed, I want it stated here,

now, that my title as the first English

woman to swim the channel shall remain

steady.

Very well.

But on your head be it, Miss Gleitz.

To great fanfare, Mercedes Gleitz sets out

on her vindication swim to restore the

prestige of Britain's lady channel

swimmers in the eyes of the world.

My conscience is clear,

but I want to repeat my

performance in front of

all the witnesses I can.

Having done it once, I am determined to

swim it again.

The plucky words of Miss

Gleitz as she prepares

to once again conquer

the English channel.

From the outset, the swim was beset by

difficulty, with near-all witness vessels

forced to turn back with the onset of

inclement weather.

The band, set to serenade Miss Gleitz on

her crossing, were overcome by a strong

bout of seasickness and forced to abandon

their accompaniment.

Prior to setting out, there was fierce

debate among the seafaring community as to

whether a woman could survive a swim so

late in the year, following sightings of

herrings off-deal, which signals the

arrival of cold North Sea water.

However, trainer Harold Best stood firm

and relayed his confidence in Miss Gleitz,

asserting, she possesses

powers of endurance

as I have never seen

in the strongest of men.

Miss Gleitz, I have brought

you here today because I

have a proposal that I believe

may be of interest to you.

The ASA, being as they are, is unwilling

to fund a channel swim in October.

However, I believe I can still be of

assistance to you.

I am willing to cover the cost of the

swim, personally.

I was a fool not to take you on when I had

the chance.

Here, have some grapes.

How long have I been going?

You're at four hours, twenty-six minutes

in the water.

I'm going to have to take it off.

It's taping.

Fine.

You can do that.

But it'll have to go back on again in an

hour.

I'm going to put a stop to this.

It's gone on for far too long.

I'm afraid I've had no choice but to

terminate the swim.

The conditions are simply too cold.

How far are we from shore?

About six miles.

That's a lot of open water.

It's a lot of water.

She moves so slowly.

If she continues to be exposed to these

temperatures, she'll more than likely

develop pipothermia, if she's not done so

already.

Give her more time to keep used to these

conditions.

She won't be able to withstand

this cold much longer, as

the team's medical officer,

I can't terminate the swim.

You need to get her out.

She has to be brought back into the boat

now.

There's no time to lose!

I can see them!

I can see them!

Wait!

I can see them!

I can see them!

What is this?!

That's it!

I'm putting a stop to this!

She needs to be taken out of the water

now!

Mercedes, stop!

Stop!

Mercedes, stop!

Hurry!

Hurry!

Hurry!

Stop now!

Stop, Mercedes!

Someone cost a line!

Take the line!

Take the line, Mercedes!

Come back!

Mercedes!

Come back!

We're over!

Mercedes, come to the boat!

Watch out!

Mercedes!

Stop!

Mercedes, come to the boat!

Come to the boat now!

Come on!

Please, Mercedes.

Please, it's over!

Mercedes!

Mercedes!

Mercedes!

I can see them!

I can see them!

Let me see the arm.

I can feel some swelling.

Does this hurt?

Can we get us something warm to drink?

I can see them!

It's only a sprain, swimmer's shoulder.

I can see them!

I can see them!

Or does this hurt for me?

I hear you as my lift, for love's no break

that thou join me.

I'm here loved to choose, and see my path,

But now, play that for me.

And with them all, those angel faces

smile, which I have heard.

And with them

all, those angel faces smile, which I have

heard.