The Filipinos, led in this case by Ray and Mike, would do the fighting.
There are many more examples of conflagrations at sea which ate lives like air than there are stories of fires which were successfully fought. Wind to fan flames, toxic materials to poison smoke, distance and situation to cut off help and a demonic alternative of burning or drowning put fire first among the nightmares of the sea. Seafarers collect these stories almost in spite of themselves, horrors which do not bear close study, except perhaps by those whose business it is to prevent them.
One that might stand for many was the fate of the
General Slocum
, a paddle steamer which caught fire on an excursion up the East River of New York in 1904, approximately where the Triborough Bridge is now. In full view of hundreds on shore, over a thousand people perished â a disproportionate number of them women and children. New York was shaken with an agony of grief, a foreshadowing of September 11th 2001, the only tragedy in that city to surpass the
General Slocum
in loss of life. Newspaper headlines tell of mourning crowds at the waterâs edge in the days following the disaster, of people so beset by anguish that they had to be prevented from throwing themselves into the river.
Captain H. Van Schaick remained at the helm, while the wheelhouse burned, until he got the
General Slocum
aground. He left the bridge, he said, only when his cap caught fire. Though he seems to have done everything possible to save lives he was criticised for spurning an opportunity to ground the ship earlier, at a wharf he believed was imperilled by warehouses and oil tanks. He spent three and a half years in jail and was not pardoned until eight years after the tragedy.
If ships are models of their times in miniature, the
General Slocum
âs was a shadowy era. Fire hoses burst. Life jackets were rotten: some were found to have been freighted with metal by the manufacturer to make them up to the required weight. Lifeboats could not be launched: there are reports that they had been wired and painted into place. Many of the passengers could not swim. A man in a white yacht is said to have stood off the scene, watched, and made no attempt to help.
The launching of rescue boats is next. Rohan gives the briefing. It is like listening to a young captain; Rohan has the gift of commanding attention.
âThe rescue boat is gravity-dropped and control is from the deck,â he says. âThe important thing is that the deck crew really drop it. You want a big splash. If not, the boat is hanging over the waves by the hook. I have been in this situation in training and it is very complicated and very dangerous.â
Noel, our cook, is picked on to talk us through launching the life rafts. He recites the procedure at top volume. Noel lacks Rohanâs ability to transmit solemnity but his words are followed closely.
If we are a model of our time in miniature then the
Gerd
is proof of progress. There are plans, there is adequate equipment (at least the life jackets are not weighted with metal) and the drills are practised. The last time this company was faced with the real thing, dangerous cargo in the forward holds of the
Charlotte Maersk
caught fire in the Strait of Malacca. The crew were on their way to attack the fire within seven minutes of the alarm. They fought the blaze for twenty-four hours before help reached them, saving the ship and themselves. It took a further ten days to kill the fire, which engulfed more than 150 containers and burned at over a thousand degrees. One man was treated for smoke inhalation.
The incident report is terrifying reading. Flames, detonations and palls of chemical fumes did not daunt the men cooling adjacent containers, retarding the spread of the blaze. (The intense heat of the fire meant they were prevented from a direct assault, at first.) This was brave enough on its own, but the report includes a reference to a tank of liquefied
There are many more examples of conflagrations at sea which ate lives like air than there are stories of fires which were successfully fought. Wind to fan flames, toxic materials to poison smoke, distance and situation to cut off help and a demonic alternative of burning or drowning put fire first among the nightmares of the sea. Seafarers collect these stories almost in spite of themselves, horrors which do not bear close study, except perhaps by those whose business it is to prevent them.
One that might stand for many was the fate of the
General Slocum
, a paddle steamer which caught fire on an excursion up the East River of New York in 1904, approximately where the Triborough Bridge is now. In full view of hundreds on shore, over a thousand people perished â a disproportionate number of them women and children. New York was shaken with an agony of grief, a foreshadowing of September 11th 2001, the only tragedy in that city to surpass the
General Slocum
in loss of life. Newspaper headlines tell of mourning crowds at the waterâs edge in the days following the disaster, of people so beset by anguish that they had to be prevented from throwing themselves into the river.
Captain H. Van Schaick remained at the helm, while the wheelhouse burned, until he got the
General Slocum
aground. He left the bridge, he said, only when his cap caught fire. Though he seems to have done everything possible to save lives he was criticised for spurning an opportunity to ground the ship earlier, at a wharf he believed was imperilled by warehouses and oil tanks. He spent three and a half years in jail and was not pardoned until eight years after the tragedy.
If ships are models of their times in miniature, the
General Slocum
âs was a shadowy era. Fire hoses burst. Life jackets were rotten: some were found to have been freighted with metal by the manufacturer to make them up to the required weight. Lifeboats could not be launched: there are reports that they had been wired and painted into place. Many of the passengers could not swim. A man in a white yacht is said to have stood off the scene, watched, and made no attempt to help.
The launching of rescue boats is next. Rohan gives the briefing. It is like listening to a young captain; Rohan has the gift of commanding attention.
âThe rescue boat is gravity-dropped and control is from the deck,â he says. âThe important thing is that the deck crew really drop it. You want a big splash. If not, the boat is hanging over the waves by the hook. I have been in this situation in training and it is very complicated and very dangerous.â
Noel, our cook, is picked on to talk us through launching the life rafts. He recites the procedure at top volume. Noel lacks Rohanâs ability to transmit solemnity but his words are followed closely.
If we are a model of our time in miniature then the
Gerd
is proof of progress. There are plans, there is adequate equipment (at least the life jackets are not weighted with metal) and the drills are practised. The last time this company was faced with the real thing, dangerous cargo in the forward holds of the
Charlotte Maersk
caught fire in the Strait of Malacca. The crew were on their way to attack the fire within seven minutes of the alarm. They fought the blaze for twenty-four hours before help reached them, saving the ship and themselves. It took a further ten days to kill the fire, which engulfed more than 150 containers and burned at over a thousand degrees. One man was treated for smoke inhalation.
The incident report is terrifying reading. Flames, detonations and palls of chemical fumes did not daunt the men cooling adjacent containers, retarding the spread of the blaze. (The intense heat of the fire meant they were prevented from a direct assault, at first.) This was brave enough on its own, but the report includes a reference to a tank of liquefied
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