Lifeboat Heroes: Outstanding RNLI Rescues from Three Centuries Page 14
Clark and his second coxswain, Richard Simpson, moved from the shelter of the wheelhouse up to the steering position on the flying bridge above it. Meanwhile, three men, Brian Laurenson, Ian Leask and Michael Grant made their faltering way forward to the starboard shoulder of the lifeboat while Peter Thomson took up a position amidships on the same side. The Green Lily’s skipper was urged to get his crew ready for evacuation.
The lifeboat moved gradually in to within 30 feet of the ship’s port side. Using his engines and his helm with utmost concentration, Hewitt Clark held the lifeboat in that position as the very confused seas lifted her high above the freighter’s deck, then plunged her 50 feet into a trough, deep below the waterline. It could not have been more obvious that he was now ready to come in to take men off, but nobody appeared on deck and all the while the shore was looming larger.
Eventually, half a dozen men appeared in lifejackets and carrying suitcases. The lifeboat moved in without further delay. Not every approach Hewitt Clark made was going to be successful; sometimes he had to pull away because the superstructure of the two vessels threatened to collide as they rolled towards each other, at other times, just as he got close, the lifeboat would surge heavenwards, putting her crew at the level of the ship’s rigging.
Sometimes a survivor was not ready to come forward as the lifeboat made her run in and sometimes the rescuers found a man and his luggage too great a weight to haul aboard before the coxswain needed to pull clear. The luggage itself was occasionally thrown on board without its owner, hampering the rescue yet further.
At one moment the lifeboat became trapped alongside and, fearing that he would be crushed at any moment, Clark went full ahead port, full astern starboard to wrench himself clear. It tore a stanchion, the forward toe rail and a piece of the fendering away, but it probably saved the lifeboat. Michael Grant had been attached by his lifeline to the guardrail which was now hanging over the side, but he and Ian Leask managed to grab the fallen stanchion, haul it inboard, unclip the lifeline and resecure it further aft.
Lerwick lifeboat alongside the Green Lily. The cliffs of Bressay are only 200 yards away. (RNLI)
Among these abandoned attempts, there were occasions when both decks came level long enough for a man to be unceremoniously dragged aboard the lifeboat. There were five safe inside the wheelhouse when Hewitt Clark noticed that the ship’s bow was beginning to turn into the wind and he was losing the lee on her port side. He and his crew had not been aware of a daring manoeuvre which had been performed by the Maersk Champion, the third tug to reach the scene. In a remarkable display of seamanship, her master had driven close to the Green Lily’s bow and grappled her anchor cable. He then attached it to his tow line and was holding the freighter away from the rocks, now only 200 yards away.
With the ship’s head to wind, it would have been suicidal to keep trying to get the lifeboat alongside, so the coxswain steered clear. The helicopter, however, now had a better chance of getting their winchman, Billy Deacon, down as the ship was pitching rather than rolling in her new position. The pilot and his crew worked fast. Ten men still had to come off the ship. Billy Deacon was lowered to the deck where, two at a time, he loaded them into the strop and prepared the next ones for the lift.
During this operation, which took little more than ten minutes, the ship’s anchor cable parted, her bow swung round to starboard, and she began to drift rapidly towards the cliffs. By now all ten seamen were aboard the helicopter and it only remained to lower the wire one last time to collect the winchman. The ship was back broadside to the sea and, to their horror, the helicopter crew saw a massive wave break over the Green Lily just as the wire descended. Billy Deacon was swept into the sea and then the ship appeared to rise and fall heavily on her port side, seemingly on top of the winchman. Almost immediately afterwards her stern hit the rocks.
As the helicopter hovered above the scene, her crew scouring the water for a sign of their colleague’s orange overalls and yellow helmet, the winch wire snagged on the rigging of the wrecked ship. Only the winch operator’s swift action to cut the wire saved the helicopter, her crew and the survivors from plummeting to their deaths.
What should the lifeboat coxswain do now? No vessel would survive in amongst the rocks where the lost winchman would be. The Coastguard had asked him to stay there and search but he and the helicopter pilot were sure that they could only be looking for a body. Hewitt Clark took the decision to land his survivors rather than to risk them in those conditions any longer. Thanks to the speed of the lifeboat, the survivors were put ashore at 3.20pm, only some 40 minutes after the last one had come off the ship.
Meanwhile, the search continued and without hesitation the coxswain and his crew headed back to the scene of the shipwreck. The weather was no better and the light was beginning to fail. An RAF helicopter from Lossiemouth had joined in the search by the time the lifeboat was back. Now Hewitt Clark went as close in as he dared to the shore. Already, the Green Lily was disintegrating, shedding cargo, steel hatch covers, pallets, ropes and oil into the water around her and making it all the more dangerous for the lifeboat. While she was searching close to the cliff, one huge wave broke over the lifeboat from astern, engulfing her and almost pitch-poling her upside-down. Hewitt Clark took that as a signal that he had taken enough risks with his crews’ lives for one day and pulled away from the shore.
Billy Deacon’s body was found the next day having been washed some seven miles up the coast of Bressay. His widow later received the George Medal posthumously for his bravery and the RNLI also presented its Thanks of the Institution on Vellum to him and the rest of the helicopter crew. As well as the Gold Medal awarded to Hewitt Clark, the RNLI Bronze Medal went to each of his crew.
16. Torbay, 13 January 2008
During a winter of many storms and much work for the RNLI, a cargo of timber shifts aboard a freighter off the south coast of Devon in Force 9 winds. After a helicopter lifts 12 of the 20-man crew from the severely listing ship, Coxswain Mark Criddle and his crew succeed in taking the rest aboard Torbay lifeboat in extremely dangerous circumstances. The Silver medal is awarded to Mark Criddle for his courage, skill and determination.
The winter months of late 2007 and early 2008 will be remembered by many lifeboat crews throughout the UK and Ireland for a succession of low pressure weather systems which swept across all areas of the British Isles bringing inland floods and furious sea conditions. The relentless gales and rain did not seem to deter the growing number who now seek pleasure and thrills around the coast, even in the depths of winter and this is reflected in some of the emergencies lifeboats were called to in the period.
Scarborough lifeboat launched into a Force 6 with 15ft swell on 21 November to try to reach an exhausted surfer. The 14-tonne lifeboat became airborne on several occasions during the search which ended when the surfer was able to struggle into the shallows on his own, although he needed hospital treatment once ashore.
Lifeboats from Tynemouth, Sunderland and Hartlepool together with an RAF helicopter and shore-based Coastguard teams from Seaham and Sunderland were scrambled two days later following a radio distress reporting that a pleasure craft had sunk with its three occupants taking to a life-raft. After two hours of searching, the Coastguard ascertained that the radio signal had come from a transmitter on land and that they were the victims of a hoax.
There had been nothing imaginary about three people aboard a cabin cruiser which had been seen setting out from Whitby harbour in atrocious conditions soon after midday on that same day. Volunteers at the lifeboat station, who were among the witnesses, tried to contact the ill-advised sailors by radio to warn them of the danger they were facing. Then, as the boat tried to turn round, she capsized, throwing her crew into the sea. Minutes later the all-weather lifeboat was launched and she soon located two of the occupants about 100 yards from the harbour’s west pier. The third person was also plucked from the sea by an RAF helicopter winchman. Tragically, and in spite of th
e rescuers’ prompt response, none of the casualties survived.
On December 1, unbeknown to the crews of Weston-super-Mare’s Atlantic 75 and D class lifeboats, a kite surfer, whose abandoned kite was spotted in the waters of the Severn Estuary, had got ashore safely. Until the message of his safety reached them, the lifeboats had persevered with their search in a Force 5, very choppy conditions and a blinding hailstorm.
Arbroath lifeboat station on Scotland’s east coast recorded the first coastal rescue of 2008 when both their all-weather and inshore lifeboats responded to a call on New Year’s Day from some anglers, one of who had slipped on rocks and broken an ankle. In spite of thick fog, the crews located their casualty, went ashore to administer first aid and then ferried the man on a stretcher aboard the inflatable D class to the larger lifeboat which carried him to an ambulance waiting in the harbour.
In the same month, a pair of shoes left on a beach in Sunderland and a car abandoned by the sea at New Quay in Wales both led to hazardous but fruitless night-time searches by the towns’ lifeboat crews. However, when a father arrived breathless and soaking wet at the Staithes and Runswick lifeboathouse on January 8, having left his family stranded by a rising tide on the Yorkshire coast to get help, the lifeboat crew, who had just completed their Sunday morning exercise, were able to speed to the rescue and return the man’s wife, two children and their dog to safety within half an hour.
With so many calls on lifeboats to people at leisure, there is a misconception held by some observers that the RNLI is losing its relevance to the world of commercial shipping. How often in this high-tech age, they ask, are lifeboats of any value to cargo vessels, ferries or even fishing boats? Well, in the same three months that RNLI crews were so busy bringing pleasure seekers ashore, their numerous services to those who earn a living from the sea ranged from an incident when the lifeboat itself became a casualty to the most daring mid-channel rescue of recent decades.
On January 29 2008, the skipper of a rigid inflatable workboat (RIB) and his two passengers found themselves unable to manoeuvre away from rocks close to the entrance to the harbour of Rathlin Island, off the north coast of Ireland. In heavy sea conditions the Portrush Severn class put out to their assistance but while the coxswain attempted to get close enough to pass a tow line, the lifeboat was picked up in the swell and dumped onto the rocks. While the three occupants of the RIB were able to get ashore across the rocks, the lifeboat stuck fast. Her crew were taken off but the £1.4 million lifeboat remained stranded for several weeks and has subsequently been deemed to be beyond economic repair.
Such a vastly expensive mishap is a sobering reminder of the risks lifeboat coxswains must sometimes take close in to shore for the sake of stranded seafarers. Only two months earlier on November 22, 2007, Howth’s Trent class and D class inflatable lifeboats, stationed just north of Dublin, were called out at 4am to the aid of a fishing vessel which had hit a rock in Balscadden Bay and was sinking. When they arrived they found the four-man crew clinging to the rock and their vessel disappearing fast beneath the waves. The lifeboat crews successfully retrieved the men from the rock and ferried them back to dry land.
On the early morning of January 30, 2008, another fishing crew were rescued close to rocks, this time under an Orkney cliff face. They were forced to abandon their 10.7m vessel when she struck bottom and began to take on water. It was still dark when the Kirkwall lifeboat reached the scene but the illuminating flare that they fired lit up the reflective strips on the life-raft which the fishermen had taken to. They were pinned under the cliffs but the lifeboat coxswain edged as close as he dared until a heaving line could be thrown to the men. They caught it, made it fast to their life-raft and were pulled clear and to safety aboard the lifeboat.
When the 39ft fishing vessel Matthew Harvey returned with her catch to Scarborough on 3 January 2008, her skipper wisely asked whether an escort was available. He had not been working out of the Yorkshire port for long and in a Force 8 and a huge, 26ft swell he needed some local guidance. Scarborough’s all-weather Mersey class was soon heading out to meet him through the hefty, pounding surf and stood by as the fishing boat made her dash for the entrance and safety.
Arranmore’s 25-knot Severn class lifeboat, stationed on the coast of County Donegal, had 60 miles to cover to reach a trawler with 16 Spanish crew on board that had caught fire on 19 January. Non-essential crew had been airlifted off by an Irish Coast Guard helicopter when the lifeboat arrived and six of the remaining seven took refuge on board the lifeboat while they waited for the arrival of an Irish naval vessel which would help the skipper put out the fire. With the fire extinguished the crew went back on board and with power restored the lifeboat left the scene. The trawler then called her back as one of the crew needed medical attention. He was taken by the lifeboat for hospital treatment back on the Irish mainland and by the time the crew were back at their station, they had spent more than 12 hours at sea.
A storm which engulfed northern Britain on January 31 and February 1 led to lifeboats launching into some of the most extreme conditions they are ever likely to face. Two lifeboats, one from Fleetwood, one from Lytham St Anne’s, put out in Force 9-10 winds after a ferry, Riverdance, carrying lorries and trailers between Warrenpoint in Northern Ireland and Heysham on the Lancashire coast, developed a frightening 50 degree list after a huge wave had shifted her cargo. Two rescue helicopters winched off 14 passengers and crew as the lifeboats stood by in the driving sleet and mountainous seas. Two hours later the ferry was aground off Blackpool and the remaining crew, who first thought they would be safe, issued a Mayday call as their ship began to heel over even further. Fleetwood lifeboat set out again at 5am and stood by as the men were winched off by helicopter.
Meanwhile, during the same storm, the trawler, Spinningdale had been flung against a cliff on the remote island of St Kilda, some 40 miles west of the Hebrides. She had 14 men on board and was taking on water. The Severn class lifeboat from Stornoway set out in violent Storm Force 11 winds and despite the appalling conditions was able to reach the island in time to be on standby as the Coastguard helicopter hoisted the Spanish crew to safety.
A few weeks earlier, on the evening of Sunday 13 January, in what might for the crews of Torbay and Salcombe lifeboats have turned out to be another task of standing by, albeit in ferocious seas, a highly dangerous operation became necessary, both for the rescue helicopter and for the lifeboats.
When Captain Arvanitis Charalampo steered the 6,500 tonne, Greek-registered cargo vessel MV Ice Prince out of the Swedish port of Iggesund and headed south through the Gulf of Bothnia towards the southern Baltic, he knew he would be lucky to avoid some uncomfortable weather before he was out of European waters. Two fifths of his cargo of timber, destined for Alexandria in Egypt, was in full view on the deck in front of him; bundles of 30ft planks, tightly stowed and covered with plastic sheeting to guard against their notorious habit of shifting in rough seas, especially once they had become wet.
By the time he reached the English Channel, the weather was more than uncomfortable. A southerly gale, Force 8 to 9, had built steadily throughout the day and his ship was rolling with manic energy as huge seas pushed their way across her westward path. Before long, he and his 19 crew became sickeningly aware that their ship was losing her equilibrium; as she heeled, first to starboard, then to port, she was not returning to a fully upright position. She tended to stay over to port, first only by a few degrees, but then the list increased to some 25 degrees. There was no doubt from anyone aboard that her cargo was to blame. If that was bad enough in such a severe gale, when the ship suddenly lost all power, the captain did not hesitate to send out a Mayday. He was drifting helplessly some 34 miles off the Devon coast and for all he knew, was about to turn turtle.
The response by rescuers was immediate. The Coastguard helicopter India Juliet, based at Portland was scrambled and both Salcombe and Torbay lifeboat put out into the pitch dark and the gale. The time was 7.45 in the eve
ning. Mark Criddle, coxswain of the Torbay Severn class, Alec and Christina Dykes, encountering 13ft breaking waves, which had been whipped up by a fierce battle of wind against tide, throttled back to 16 knots, and told his crew to strap themselves into their seats and to expect a very bumpy ride for the two hours it would take to reach the cargo ship.
Coxswain Criddle tried but failed to make contact with the Ice Prince by VHF radio. Brixham Coastguard, who were in contact with the ship, relayed the news that her list had increased to 45 degrees and her only source of power were emergency batteries. One of the crew had a broken leg. To Criddle the situation sounded desperate. The ship could capsize at any minute. He needed to get there faster and opened the throttles. At 20 knots the lifeboat was leaping, airborne, from one wave to the next as the crew braced themselves for one crash landing after another. Nothing was visible whatsoever through the wheelhouse windows in the spray and darkness — the coxswain was relying entirely on his instruments, especially the radar, for a safe passage.
The helicopter was first to arrive at the scene at 9pm. The pilot, Captain Kevin Balls, planned to winch the non-essential crew off the ship. Knowing from the Coastguard that Torbay lifeboat was only four minutes away, he set to work with the extremely difficult task of lowering his winchman down to the port wing of the Ice Prince’s bridge. The entire ship’s company had mustered on the opposite starboard wing but the pilot needed to stay over the lower port side to be able to see the superstructure and aerials as they swung menacingly close to the rotor blades with every roll of the ship.