Noel Carabott, 33, must have had a premonition of the tragedy that lay ahead for the ill-fated Simshar fishing vessel and the words he told his wife before boarding will haunt her forever.

"It was about 4 a.m. and just before we approached the boat he told me: 'The time has come. How horrible it is. I'm going to leave you... It will be a while before you see me again'," Stephania Carabott said when interviewed.

Holding her arms limply in her lap and her brown eyes staring blanking, the 28-year-old widow recounts the day she last saw her husband on July 7, before he joined the crew of five led by Simon Bugeja, the only survivor rescued from the sea on Friday.

Mr Carabott's lifeless body was brought ashore during the early morning hours of Thursday. He is said to be the second man to succumb to the seas after an explosion rocked the Simshar a week earlier.

"He was identified through his tattoos. He had my name imprinted near his groin. I wanted to see his face in the mortuary but they refused to uncover the sheet completely. He was so strong... now I have nothing left," she says, sinking into the sofa at her mother's home.

Swallowing two sedatives with her lemon tea, Mrs Carabott chokes back her sobs and recalls how on that day the alarm was set for 3.30 a.m. because her husband had to be at Mr Bugeja's garage at 4 a.m.

He wanted to sleep in but he finally dragged himself out of bed by the time Mr Bugeja had called at 4.10 a.m. urging him to get down there because they were soon leaving.

The couple live in Marsaxlokk so it was just a five-minute drive away. Mrs Carabott had packed a bag with enough rations to keep her husband going for a week - a box of Spark Cola, a box of water, croissants, mussels, luncheon meat, chocolate, noodles, fruit, a blanket and sheets.

As they were nearing the quay, he uttered those ominous words, repeating "I'm going to leave you" four times to his wife, who tried to lift his spirits and never gave them a second thought.

"It's the first time he said anything like this but I told him: Come on, you'll be back home for the weekend," she says lighting a cigarette, as she wipes her tears.

When they reached the quay, Mrs Carabott helped her husband unload the bags and, feeling exhausted, she decided to return home. Usually, she would stay until the boat sailed into the horizon and she couldn't see it anymore.

Her husband walked her to the car, hugged her, gave her a kiss and said: "Go, my sweetheart. Be good and stay at your mum's".

She went home to sleep and woke up at 7 a.m. She immediately tried to contact Mr Bugeja because her husband's mobile phone battery was dead and he had left it behind but they were already far out at sea and there was no reception.

She went about her life that week and, on Thursday, July 10, the day Mr Carabott was expected back she prepared a sweet and sour Chinese meal, which he said he was craving before he left and excitedly awaited his return.

The couple, who have no children, have been married for nine years. They met when Mrs Carabott was 13 and they have been inseparable since: "We were each other's breath".

"He was such a kind-hearted man; always surrounded by friends. To me he was my husband and, above all, my best friend," she says, adding that it was only recently that her husband had hooked up with Mr Bugeja.

She admits that her husband had been battling a drug habit for a while but he came clean through rehabilitation and was working with Mr Bugeja to get back on track.

"We fought it together and I'm so proud that he succeeded in coming clean. To me he died a hero by taking off his clothes to cover little Teo (Mr Bugeja's 11-year-old son) and protect him from the sun. He put the boy before his own welfare," she says, unconsciously rocking back and forth.

Going back to the day she was expecting her husband back, she recounts how she saw the wind blow through the reeds and realised that the vessel could be delayed because of rough weather out at sea.

She contacted Mr Bugeja's wife, who tried to allay her fears and keep her calm, but Mrs Carabott had a sense of foreboding that would not go away.

"So many thoughts raced through my mind. I began to suspect they may have been taken hostage. I wanted to raise the alarm immediately because I feared it would be too late," she adds, flipping her phone open to look longingly at her husband's face on the screensaver.

She spent a week scouring the streets of Marsaxlokkk in search of any shred of information that would give her hope that her husband was still alive. On Friday morning, she got a call from the army postponing their meeting to noon from 9 a.m. With time on her hands, she decided to visit Raymond Bugeja, president of the Fisheries Cooperative, who was also helping in the rescue mission at sea.

"On our way out Ray grabbed my father's hand and held him back, telling him something in a low voice. I'm not stupid, I instantly realised something was wrong," she says, lighting another cigarette.

Back home her father said nothing. Then, at 11.30 a.m., just as they were about to leave for the appointment with the army, two policemen knocked on the door.

The news of her husband's death was like a punch in her stomach, leaving her gasping for air. She insisted on going to the morgue to identify him, though the policemen tried to change her mind. They only relented when she promised not to make a scene; a promise she couldn't keep when she got there.

"I thank the AFM for all they did. Now I just want to talk to Simon (who is still recovering in hospital) to see what Noel's last words were. There are too many thoughts racing through my mind. I just want to know the truth."

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