Taking the Talisker Whisky Challenge in aid of charity When Martin died in May 2008, aged just 43, Bertie stood at his graveside and said in his tribute that he wanted to "strive to do more," to make a difference in the same way that Martin had done. By that, he meant Martin's charitable work. In 2001, Martin and another eminent surgeon, Norman Waterhouse, set up Facing The World to help children from the world's poorest countries who had severe facial deformities and no way of obtaining surgery. It followed a trip Martin had made to Afghanistan. He came across an eight-month-old girl, Hadisa, who suffered from a facial disfigurement caused by a condition called severe craniofacial clefting syndrome. In her local community she and her family were ostracised, the elders having decided she was "a demon." There was a possibility she would be stoned to death. Martin met Hadisa in the local hospital's primitive operating theatre. Though there were few resources, no anaesthetics and flies buzzing around, hordes of patients queued in the hope of receiving surgery that day or the next. Martin promised her father he would try to help and on his return to England, he approached Norman, his medical mentor who had made similar voluntary trips. The result was the foundation of Facing The World. Norman put up £10,000 and I did an advert that raised the same amount. So with £20,000 and a single employee, Sarah Driver Jowitt, the fledging charity began by bringing Hadisa to London. She underwent a series of operations that proved to be such a success that she was able to go to school when she returned to Afghanistan. We still have framed pictures and cards about the house from her and from other patients who have benefited from the charity's work. One says: "Dear Mr Martin doctor, you have made me so happy now. Send me a new name to match my new face. Sometimes, groups of them come from the hospital for tea parties. I remember that huge beatific smile breaking across Martin's face as he looked at these kids, they were so full of hope, so incredibly trusting of him. Those were good days, his sense of achievement and happiness were contagious. Now Bertie has picked up the baton. When he first told me of his plan, I thought: he's mad. Rowing with James without a break for 60 days or more? He'll come to his senses soon. But as I write, they have been out there for 42 days, three hours and two minutes. The winners, Box Number 8, finished the race last Saturday, but Bertie and James, who have suffered some devastating setbacks, still have 992 miles to go. How dreadful must that feel? They started out on December 5, but had to turn back when their water purifier broke down. Three sets of oars have snapped, and after the last ones went they had to drift, losing ground, for three days, waiting for replacements to be brought to them. They have capsized, and been bashed about, but undeterred, they carry on... Before they set out, Bertie and James - a personal trainer and a terrific sportsman - trained hard for two years, taking seamanship courses and passing exams, all the while keeping up their day jobs. Bertie became obsessed with raising money. The pair talked at schools across London, they got friends, and friends of friends involved: Bill Nighy, Dominic West and Rupert Penry-Jones came to the broker ICAP's charity day just after they set out on the voyage to help raise extra money. This sort of pilgrimage has stirred everyone who has come across them into action: it has woken us up, we're excited and galvanised into doing things we would never normally do. Bertie and James have already raised more than £350,000 for their endeavour, which dramatically changes the possibilities of what the charity can achieve and how many lives can be improved. All of us gave Bertie small tokens before he set out. He has a beaded bracelet of Martin's to wear as a sort of talisman. His mother had asked all her friends to write him a message so that he could read a new one each day that he was at sea. His girlfriend, Sam Scott Thomas, supports him from afar, every stroke of the way. A friend's son has a chart next to his bed following the course of their journey and ticks off each day they are at sea. Another friend sends him a riddle a day to figure out. Martin is dead and cannot witness any of this, but this adventure feels like an amazing tribute to their friendship, a last wave from Bertie to him. Martin used to say: "It is said that as we get older, we get the face we deserve... let's not make [the children] wait that long." So, in the spirit of these courageous children, I hope that you will go to the website facingtheatlantic.com and pledge something. On the same website you can see a three-minute film of Martin talking, and the surgeons at work. It shows that miracles can happen.