Evil sea... "so that terrorists would focus on building rather than planting bombs." Navigation of the past century
It was a long time ago, in the early nineties. Back then, we were transporting German cement, sent by the European Union to Belfast, so that IRA terrorists would focus on building instead of planting bombs. So, we sailed to Ireland, and the weather was bad. A sailor returning from the sea who wants to impress his girlfriend would describe such weather by saying that water was pouring down the chimney, and seagulls were flying featherless. Maybe in that storm, the seagulls still had some feathers, and we weren’t scooping water through the chimney, but the fact remains—it was blowing hard, and the sea was rough.
commentary news18 january 2025 | 21:19 | Source: Gazeta Morska | Prepared by: Tadeusz Hatalski, kpt. ż.w. | Print
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On this stormy night, we were just passing Land’s End and changing course to head north, leaving the English Channel behind and entering the Celtic Sea. Land’s End – in technical terms – is the southwesternmost point of the British Isles, but in plain language, it’s just a few rocks sticking out of the sea. Rocks whose name translates quite fittingly to “the End of the Land.”
And at this End of the Land, with weather so bad you could say the seagulls were flying featherless, and the water was pouring down the chimney… the rudder broke down. It was 2 a.m., during the Second Officer’s watch. The ship’s rudder jammed in a position of 20 degrees to starboard. As a result, the ship wasn’t moving forward but circling endlessly. Worse still, the stormy wind blowing from the Atlantic was pushing the ship closer to the rocks with every turn.
I was on the bridge, standing by the radar to monitor the situation, while clinging to it to stay on my feet. I kept checking the distance to the rocks and calculating the drift after each turn. Doing the math in my head, it was clear we had about thirty minutes. Thirty minutes before the ship would crash onto the rocks.
The Second Officer reacted appropriately to the emergency by calling the captain to the bridge. But when I ordered him to go down to the steering gear room and activate emergency steering, he replied that he didn’t know how to do it. Whether he genuinely didn’t know or simply didn’t want to leave the bridge, where at any moment we might have to jump into the water to save ourselves, I don’t know. I didn’t insist he go because I wanted to be sure the person who went below would actually activate the emergency steering properly. So, I ordered the First Officer to be woken up.
A moment later, a crew member reported that the First Officer was awake and would come to the bridge shortly.
The First Officer was my friend, someone I’d known for years and whose knowledge and professionalism I trusted completely. So, I waited. Meanwhile, the ship kept circling, drawing ever closer to the cursed rocks. I was communicating with the Coast Guard station and nearby ships, informing them that our ship was “not under command” due to the rudder failure and that we’d activate emergency steering shortly. And I waited… and waited… as the minutes ticked by faster and faster.
Finally, he arrived. I explained that we had a rudder failure, but the situation was under control (though that “control” was highly tenuous). I told him I needed him to go down to the steering gear room and activate emergency steering. But before he went, I wanted him to carefully read the procedure to make sure he remembered it correctly. And again, I reassured him that the situation was under control.
On the bridge at night, it’s dark. The First Officer calmly picked up a flashlight and slowly read the instructions. Time kept slipping away, and the rocks loomed ever closer. I was just about to tell him, “Marek, hurry up with the reading,” when he said he was confident he knew what to do.
He went down with a crew member. Moments later, over the ship’s intercom, I heard his voice from the steering gear room, reporting that emergency steering was activated. I began giving rudder commands, and the ship responded! No longer circling aimlessly, it held a steady course. Shortly after, the engineer located and fixed the fault that had caused the rudder failure. We were safe again and back on course to Belfast, battling the rough weather but no longer in danger.
The next morning, when the storm had eased a bit and the tension had subsided, I asked the First Officer why it had taken him so long to get to the bridge that night. Slightly embarrassed, he replied, “You see, these work boots of mine… they’ve got very long laces. And with all the rolling in the storm, the laces got tangled up. When I was getting dressed, I had a hard time untangling and tying them. That’s why it took so long…”
It took him a while to tie those laces. But he made it just in time. And if he hadn’t? If he hadn’t made it in time, well… perhaps, dear readers, you wouldn’t be reading this story today.
Kamil Kusier
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