Lifeboat Heroes: Outstanding RNLI Rescues from Three Centuries
Page 15
They got the winchman down and a group of nervous lifejacket-clad figures slid their way down the steeply sloping bridge to the opposite side of the ship. The winching took three quarters of an hour in which time 12 men were taken aboard the helicopter. On two occasions during the operation the helicopter nearly collided with the ship and was only saved by the pilot applying full power to pull clear in the nick of time. The hi-line, used for guiding the winch strop down onto the bridge, broke on three occasions and a new one had to be manoeuvred into the winchman’s hands on after each breakage.
When Torbay lifeboat arrived she had immediately taken up a position with her head to weather off the casualty’s port quarter, her coxswain holding the boat in position from the upper steering position above the wheelhouse and his crewmember Darryll Farley beside him, straining to keep the searchlight trained on the ship to give as much light as possible to the helicopter crew. All this was done without any communication between lifeboat and helicopter. For some reason, the lifeboat mechanic Matthew Tyler had not been able to raise them on the VHF.
Salcombe’s Tyne class, Baltic Exchange II, under the command of Coxswain Marco Brimacombe reached the scene at 9.30pm. She, too, took up a position close to Torbay lifeboat and provided additional illumination. She was also unable to make radio contact with the helicopter. Another vessel, the Royal Navy’s frigate HMS Cumberland, which had been at anchor in Torbay, had also set out in response to the Mayday and when she arrived towards the end of the winching operation she placed herself up wind of the Ice Prince in order to provide a lee.
The Ice Prince wallows in heavy seas after all her crew have been evacuated. She eventually sank, stem-first, 26 miles south-south-east of Portland Bill. (RNLI)
When, at about 10pm, the helicopter rose clear of the cargo ship, the winchman safely back aboard, there was some puzzlement among both lifeboat crews. The Torbay coxswain had earlier asked the Coastguard whether a second helicopter could be deployed but no answer had come back. In fact, the Aeronautical Rescue Co-ordination Centre at RAF Kinloss had refused the request but India Juliet’s pilot, Kevin Balls, having heard the request being passed on by the Coastguard, assumed another aircraft was on its way and turned for home with 12 rescued crewmen on board.
Why had the helicopter left with people still on board? Mark Criddle could make them out quite clearly huddled together on the bridge wing. Fortunately, he was able to make radio contact with Captain Charalampo, although his rudimentary English made the exchanges difficult. In fact, the captain had now ordered all remaining men, eight including himself, to abandon ship. The angle of list made it impossible to use either of the ship’s lifeboats and he was therefore asking whether the coxswain was prepared to help them.
Criddle agreed without hesitation and asked the captain to ensure his men were wearing immersion suits and lifejackets with lights and to tell them to assemble at the stern of the ship where he would make his approach. Meanwhile the lifeboat crew donned helmets and safety harnesses, rigged fenders on the port shoulder and prepared rescue strops including one on the end of a line, in case anyone fell in the water. Then they made their way to the foredeck, all except Darryll Farley who was needed at the searchlight.
Any approach to the casualty’s stern was fraught with danger. The ship was drifting beam on to the wind at three knots. There would be no shelter from the elements as the lifeboat came in close and without pinpoint accuracy; too far to port and the submerged gunwale would thrust its way up under the lifeboat’s hull; too much the other way and the starboard quarter would come down like a guillotine, crushing the crew on the foredeck. To make it even more difficult for the coxswain, a large anchor was housed on the stern, giving very little free space to come alongside.
Using hand signals, the coxswain indicated that he wanted the ship’s crew to come, one at a time, from their position on the high side of the stern, down the steeply sloping deck to the port side where the sea was washing over the deck. That took courage in itself but the first man eventually slithered to the required position and the lifeboat made her approach. Everything went perfectly. The lifeboat’s port shoulder came close enough to the Ice Prince’s stern for the man to be able to step across into the arms of the lifeboat’s two Deputy Second Coxswains, Roger Good and John Ashford who were both forward of the pulpit in the bow. He was bundled back to the wheelhouse by the other three crewmembers as the lifeboat pulled clear to prepare for her next approach.
Although it took several attempts to get close enough again in the turbulent water around the stern without actually making contact, Mark Criddle, using all his concentration and skill, managed it twice more to allow two more survivors to come aboard. Coming in close for the fourth man, the lifeboat rolled suddenly and the two vessels crashed together. Every crewman on the lifeboat foredeck was thrown off his feet and the lifeboat’s bow fendering hung in shreds.
The man himself lost his hold and slid down the deck and into the water. The coxswain reversed clear, terrified that he was about to be crushed between the two vessels. As the crew on the bow picked themselves up, they were hugely relieved to see a surge of water push the man back to his original perch. On the next approach the lifeboat crew grabbed him and he was led, unhurt, to safety.
There was a new problem now; the remaining four men had taken fright and would not come down to the position where they could be got aboard the lifeboat. In spite of numerous approaches and screamed persuasion and gesticulation from the lifeboat crew, the men would not budge. In desperation, the coxswain on one occasion used power to push his bow against the stern to hold his position to make it easier for the men but all it achieved was to do more damage to the lifeboat’s bow.
All the lifeboat could do was to keep trying. Time and again she drew close, then backed away until, at last, the men began to move. Again the coxswain edged forward and this time a man half jumped, half fell towards the lifeboat. Only by the speed and strength of the five men on the foredeck was he saved from falling between the two boats. They grabbed him and hauled him up over the side, then hurried him aft to join his other shipmates.
The last three men were almost as difficult to get off. Each needed several more approaches and each had to be manhandled aboard, the foredeck crew risking being crushed every time they stepped forward to grab a survivor. At last they could pull away for the final time and prepare for the passage home. It had taken them an exhausting one and three quarter hours with more than 50 manoeuvres alongside to get all the men off. Their near impossible task had been helped considerably by Salcombe lifeboat which had kept her position throughout, giving extra illumination from her searchlight. HMS Cumberland had also been a reassuring presence as well as providing a lee.
A check of the lifeboat’s damaged bow revealed that the hull was still intact. Of the survivors, one looked grey and groggy and crewmember Alex Rowe, who is a doctor, suspected a heart condition. Another showed signs of some broken ribs. In spite of their buffeting on the foredeck, the lifeboat crew were unhurt except for Darryll Farley who had at some point cut his head open on the searchlight in his battle to keep it on target.
Torbay lifeboat reached her home port at 1.15am, having been at sea for five-and-a-half hours. Captain Balls, the helicopter pilot, only discovered when he arrived back at Portland to land his 12 survivors, that another helicopter had not been sent to the scene. He immediately refuelled and returned to the ship and arrived just as the last survivor had made it aboard the lifeboat.
No one could have known it at the time but the Ice Prince remained in her perilous listing state for two more days. The weather prevented any salvage attempt, however, and she eventually sank, stern-first, 26 miles south south east of Portland Bill. Much of the timber that had been on her deck eventually fetched up in spectacular quantity on the beaches of Sussex.
Mark Criddle didn’t get back home until after four in the morning, following his extraordinary night at sea. When he left the house at seven the previous evening, he
had been doing the children’s laundry. He told reporters later that the first thing his wife, Melanie, asked him as he clambered wearily into bed was: ‘Did you bring that washing in?’
Once the full story of that night was revealed, the RNLI saw fit to award Mark Criddle the Silver Medal for his courage, leadership, seamanship, initiative and determination. His crew — Roger Good, John Ashford, Matthew Tyler, Nigel Coulton, Alex Rowe and Darryll Farley — all received the official Thanks of the Institution on Vellum for the considerable part they played in the safe return of the crew of the Ice Prince.
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Bibliography
Primary Sources
British Library, Newspaper Library — various contemporary local newspapers
The Grahame Farr Archive
Royal National Lifeboat Institution Archives
Secondary Sources
Bourke, Stephanie, The Hamilton Family & The Making of Balbriggan (Balbriggan and District Historical Society, 2004)
Cameron, Ian, Riders of the Storm (London, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2002)
Cox, Barry, Lifeboat Gallantry (London, Spink and Son, 1998)
De Courcy Ireland, J., Wreck and Rescue on the East Coast of Ireland (The Glendale Press, 1983)
Denton, Tony, Lifeboat Enthusiasts’ Society Handbook 2008
Farr, Grahame, Wreck and Rescue in the Bristol Channel 1 (D. Bradford Barton, 1966)
Howarth, Patrick, Lifeboat: In Danger’s Hour (London, Hamlyn, 1981)
Kelly, Robert, For Those in Peril (Shearwater Press, 1979)
Kipling, Ray and Susannah, Strong To Save (Patrick Stephens Ltd, 1995)
Miller, Allen, The Great Lifeboat Disaster of 1886 (Sefton Council, Leisure Services Dept (Libraries), 2001)
Morris, Jeff, The Story of Fraserburgh Lifeboats, 2003
Ortzen, Len, Famous Lifeboat Rescues (Arthur Baker Ltd, 1971)
Royal National Lifeboat Institution, The Lifeboat Journal and Annual Reports
Sagar-Fenton, Michael, Penlee, The Loss of a Lifeboat (Bossiney Books, 1991)
Skidmore, Ian, Lifeboat VC (David & Charles, 1979)
Vince, Charles, Storm on the Waters (Hodder & Stoughton, 1946)
Warner, Oliver, The Lifeboat Service (London, Cassell, 1974)
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Copyright © Edward Wake-Walker, 2009.
First published by Haynes Publishing, 2009.
Edward Wake-Walker has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work.
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[1] When the RNLI later checked the names of the ships as noted by the lifeboat crews they could find no vessel named Paddy Hendly in Lloyd’s Register. As the men rescued from this ship were put aboard a destroyers with other survivors, there was no way of finding them again to check its real name. It remains an intriguing mystery as to whether a misunderstanding occurred or whether the lifeboat crew were perhaps intentionally given the wrong name.
[2] He would himself one day become coxswain of Holyhead lifeboat.