The Cruel, Cruel Sea….
I am not a mean person but when it comes to ‘charity’, I have strong feelings. I do not give to people who collect door-to-door. I do not give to ‘beggars’, as from experience in the Police, I know that the majority spend any money given on drugs. I do however give to, and always have done so, to the Salvation Army and those noble men of the sea, the Royal National Lifeboat Institute.
It is a quirk in the British mentality that these brave men are all volunteers and receive no funding from Government, either local or nationally. To a man they are all brave individuals who give their time and occasionally their lives to save those stricken by foul weather at sea by doing all forms of rescues.
As most of my postings are historical and usually go back, in some cases, centuries, I was reminded today of a tragedy that shook the British people and especially those of us who hold the RNLI in such high regard. I write of the Penlee Lifeboat Disaster of 19th December 1981.
A Dublin-registered cargo ship, the Union Star, was making her maiden voyage from Holland to Arklow in Ireland carrying a cargo of fertiliser. It had a crew of five and the Captain, Henry Morton had with him his wife Dawn and two teenage daughters. They were travelling together as they wanted to spend Christmas together even if it meant being on board ship.
The ship developed engine trouble when it was about eight miles off Wolf Rock off the coast of Cornwall in the Southwest of England. Captain Morton was unable to restart her engines. Assistance was offered by a Salvage Tug, the Noord Holland but due to what is known as ‘Lloyd’s Open Form salvage contract’, he refused the offer as he did not wish to take the responsibility for his owners having to pay an undetermined amount for salvage. Morton was happy that he could restart the engines and continue on his journey. The seas were rough but manageable.
It is quite common for Salvage Tugs to listen out on their radios for ships in distress and offer their services. A panel of adjusters at Lloyds of London determines the fees for such assistance. The Open Form Salvage Contract (LOF) provides a regime for determining the amount of remuneration to be awarded to salvors for their services in saving property at sea and minimising or preventing damage to the environment. Originating from the late 1800s it is probably the most widely used international salvage agreement of its kind in the world today. Although the shipping companies accept it, I firmly believe that it is similar to the ‘Ambulance Chaser’ lawyers that one reads about in America.
As the ship drifted in the increasingly roughening seas the fuel supply became contaminated by seawater. Morton put out a distress signal to the Falmouth coastguard. The winds rapidly increased to 80 mph gusting at times to 95 mph – equalling hurricane force 12 on the Beaufort scale. The ship was slowly but surely being pushed towards the rocks of Boscawen Cove.
A Royal Navy Sea King helicopter, which was sent, was unable to remove any of the eight people on board the ship.
At Penlee Point, near Mousehole (pronounced Mewsell) preparations were being made to launch the lifeboat Solomon Browne. She was a wooden 47 feet Watson class lifeboat crewed by eight local men from the village. All were experienced seamen chosen from the twelve volunteers who answered the maroon alarm. The Coxswain, Trevelyan Richards insisted that only one man from each family be taken due to the ever-worsening conditions. 
When the Union Star was being driven ever closer to the rocky cliffs, Richards took the lifeboat headfirst into the storm. He made several unsuccessful attempts to get alongside the ship. As soon as he managed to do so, the lifeboat was thrown, not once but twice up onto the deck of the Union Star and on each occasion, it slid back into the sea. The seas had a swell of over fifty feet and continued to bash the lifeboat against the ship. The radio messages from each craft were being monitored back at the RNLI on shore.
Again, the lifeboat came alongside the ship and on this occasion four people, believed to include Morton’s wife and children managed to get aboard the lifeboat. Once more it made another attempt to save the four remaining members of the ship’s crew but on this occasion, both radios fell completely silent. It is believed that the lifeboat was on this occasion washed completely over the ship by a sixty foot breaking wave. Nothing further was heard from either.
Other lifeboats from distant places began to make their way to the area against treacherous seas to search for their fellow lifeboatmen. Helicopters and lifeboats carried out, when the winds calmed a little, a more thorough search for survivors but without success. Sixteen lives were lost – eight from the ship and eight from the lifeboat. Eventually eight bodies were recovered – four from each vessel.
The village of Mousehole had a sad miserable Christmas that year with several families with small children finding themselves without fathers and brothers. One of the lifeboat casualties was the landlord of the local public house, the Ship Inn.
All were posthumously awarded medals for their bravery and a memorial was erected.
A massive public appeal raised over £3 million but more importantly, under new legislation, the coastguard was empowered to declare a mayday and authorise salvage on behalf of the ship’s captain thereby limiting the captain’s liability to his owners as in this case.
On the night of the disaster, Nigel Brockman and his son Neil answered the emergency call but the Cox, Richards refused to allow two members of the same family to go to sea. Neil is now the Coxswain of the same lifeboat, albeit, a new one.
And finally, every year on the 19th December, the Christmas illuminations of Mousehole are turned off at 8pm for an hour in remembrance.
If you want modern brave heroes, there is no need to go further than Penlee…….
-----------------------------
No comments:
Post a Comment