Feet wetting incident
by Published on 10th March 2022 03:43 PM
Following a couple of weeks break at home after a 2 year jag on the “ MV British Monarch” trading between Japan, Aussie, NZ and the Guano islands of Nauru and Ocean Island I’d had enough deep sea at least for a while so I opted for a a nice little coaster which would provide much needed time at home.
I joined the Coast Lines ship MV Denbigh Coast at Permona dock in Salford.
She was an old timer with radial davits and really cramped accommodation.
She was on a regular run with general cargo between Manchester and Belfast spending every weekend in Permona. Just what I needed for some normal shore life and a regular lady friend.
After clearing Eastham locks in the Mersey we navigated seaward to the Bar lightship. The weather was fair with a nor-westerly running at about 3 to 4. Vis was was 10 miles+.
After clearing the Bar we set course for Belfast and the Skipper relieved me and took over the watch, which coastal skippers did in the 60s.( perhaps they still do, I don’t know)
I went below to the galley and had a cuppa with the cook when I suddenly remembered I’d left my all weather Canadian parka on the bridge.
Nipping back up to the bridge and grabbing my coat I noticed a cargo ship about one point off the starboard bow coming towards us with a feather in her mouth. I leaned against the bridge window and chatted to the skipper waiting for the other ship to pass on our starboard side. I remember the skipper telling me there was a Vesper scooter in number 2 (hold) which was for his daughter as a present for getting a place in university.
The other ship was the 10000 ton MV Irish Maple bound for Liverpool and our passing distance, I estimated would be about 200 yards or so. Bit close I thought, the skipper knows what he’s doing.
The skipper ordered“ nothing to starboard” to the helmsman on the wheel behind us, who repeated the order back to him.
The Maple was about 1000 yards off our starboard bow when I noticed a worrying drift of our bow to starboard. “Port 10” the skipper shouted to the man on the wheel. The swing to starboard increased alarmingly and I looked behind at the helmsman and the rudder indicator and to my horror he’d applied the wheel hard over to starboard. In desperation I ran over to the wheel and pushing the guy aside spun the wheel hard over to port at the same time relating what I was doing to the skipper.
Through the bridge windows I watched in shock as the bow of the Maple struck us just aft of the focsle head on the port side ripping the complete bow section off the Denbigh Coast and forcing her over 90 degrees on her starboard side. The bow was pushed under as the Maple rode completely over the foredeck.
I slid sideways down the 2 companionways on the port side from the bridge deck towards the boat deck. The bosun was already there and it was obvious a lifeboat launch was out of the question so we desperately tried to release an inflatable life raft from its brackets, but try as we might it wouldn’t budge, probably due to the extreme deck angle.
I saw the chief engineer climbing up from the engine room muttering effing hell, effing hell and jumping straight into the sea leaving the engine still running at full ahead.
The forward part of the ship was now well below the surface with the stern starting to raise itself above the water.
It was about 2230hr and in the darkness I glanced around for a life jacket or life belt and unable to see either I pulled myself over the bulwark and slid down the port side of the ship into the sea.
After the initial shock of the cold water I realised I was in imminent danger from the prop which was somehow still spinning and thrashing the surface with an almighty sound. The action of the half immersed propeller was causing the stern to move sideways and towards me. I swam like I’ve never swam before and fortunately out of range of the prop.
Initially I could hear other crew members in the sea shouting to each other, although in the dark we couldn’t see where each was.
It was just a matter of running in the sea to stay afloat and it became more difficult as one descended down a wave into a trough with gravity forcing one’s head below the surface. As time passed the calling to each other ceased and I tried several times to call without reply. Thoughts went through my mind that the others had drowned and I wondered how long I’d last. Apparently, the tide and currents created the increased distance between ourselves.
I seemed to have been in the water all night and anticipated dawn on the horizon.
I suddenly saw a silvery shimmer of light from over my shoulder on the tops of the waves and turning around saw a searchlight in the distance sweeping from left to right across the sea.
My heart leapt as I felt the possibility of rescue. “Over here” I screamed as loud as I could, “over here, over here.” I tried waving at the same time but the weight of my arms above water pushed my head below the surface.
The searchlight seemed to be getting closer and the sweep passed over my head several times before finally settling on me.
Several minutes later a pilot boat ships cutter pulled up alongside me.
I was so exhausted I couldn’t even grab the gunwale of the boat.
My voice had completely gone hoarse with shouting but I managed to repeatedly gurgle “thank you”.
The time was just after midnight and I had been picked up by the Liverpool Pilot Boat Arnett Robinson who was en route from her pilot boat station at Point Linus in Anglesey to Liverpool when she picked up the Mayday signal from the MV Irish Maple.
After a short leave at home to replace all my lost gear, I went back deep sea having had enough of the coast.
Last edited by David mullins; 10th March 2022 at 04:04 PM.
Reason: Duplication