READERS REPORT (12): SOAKING, SCARED AND WAITING TO DIE

READERS REPORT (12):  SOAKING, SCARED AND WAITING TO DIE 

GERARD O'NEIL    www.stuff.co.nz  14/05/2014

It had been raining most of the day and the wind had been blowing strongly making the sea rough, but we were well within the safety margins for a fishing trawler of our size fishing 80 miles off the West Coast of the South Island.

As far as the weather forecast was concerned, nothing out of the ordinary was expected. In fact, conditions we predicted to improve.

When the crew and I went on deck to prepare some equipment I saw the skipper way up on the bridge scanning the western horizon with a pair of binoculars. Almost immediately, he gave the order to haul in the net.

We rushed to our positions and began the long process of bringing our gear to the surface. Looking to the west, I saw what had upset the skipper. A set of dark squall clouds was rapidly bearing down on us.

We had managed to haul in about half of our cable when the squall hit.

The wind reached gale force, but no one was unduly worried as we presumed like other squalls this one would pass quickly.

It did not! In fact, the wind increased even more.

Waves began to break on board but were quickly expelled through the scuppers.

Then a particularly violent gust hit and to my surprise, something crashed onto the deck beside me. It was a plank from our trawl derrick catwalk high above the stern of the boat. I was just in time to see other planks being peeled off by the wind. The deck master sent me up to secure those that remained.

I rapidly completed my task high up on the derrick and for a moment stood contemplating the scene before me. Our boat was like a tiny speck in a huge, swelling cauldron of flying water and spray.

Back on deck, the situation was beginning to get serious.

The winches could no longer keep up a constant strain on the cables.

As we climbed each wave, they would shriek in protest and then just before they stalled the winch master would ride the clutch. Going down the other side of the wave, they would make a spinning sound as the pressure went off.

After 40 minutes, the net finally broke the surface. Now we faced another problem. How to haul it on board in the huge seas?
We managed to get it part way up the stern rap but its weight caused us to ship a lot of water. Even though there was a safety door in the net, part way down, which in an emergency can be opened to spill some of the fish, in the sea that was running, it was too dangerous to climb down to open it.

Waiting for the help of a big wave, the winch master managed to drag the net on board.

The hold was opened, and all hands began throwing fish below as fast as possible (not an easy task on a violently rolling boat).

Once the space directly below the hatch was full, five of us went into the hold to begin the process transferring the fish to the desired pounds for icing.

From the motion of the boat, we all knew that the weight of the catch was making us top heavy and so we were not surprised when the message came that the hatch would be closed and the boat turned to face the waves head-on.

Below we could feel the boat beginning to turn and then all of a sudden there was an almighty thud.

Even with the heavy steel hatch cover firmly closed, green seawater began to pour below. At first, I was fascinated!

It then occurred to me that for this to happen we must be underwater and therefore it would be impossible to open the hatch from either side.

As more and more water came cascading below someone said "I think we are sinking! Let's begin counting. If we reach ten it's all over!"

As we slowly counted, I can remember each thought that passed through my mind:

1. This was not the way I had expected to die.

2. The reaction of my friends back at port when we were reported missing.

3. The police officers knocking on my parents' door.

4. The newspaper and TV reports that would last for about a week.

5. That drowning was supposed to be the best way to die as first the brain is starved of       oxygen resulting in a "high" moments before death.

6. Steel-hulled trawlers never bob back to the surface and so our bodies would never be recovered.

7. I would not fight the inevitable.

As we reached "eight", I became conscious of the butterflies in my stomach and then realised that they were not butterflies but a nauseating feeling. It was the build-up of panic.

The lights then began flickering and for a brief moment went off.

I was shocked. I had expected to die in the light. I had a momentary vision of myself panicking in our cold steel coffin in the dark.

Just as we were about to count "nine", the floor levelled out and then began to slope upward.

The moment we reached the surface our crewmates flung open the hatch and hands reached down to help us out.

Our colleagues were soaking wet.

They told us that as we had begun our turn, a huge wave had come on board covering the boat from bow to stern. They found themselves swimming in the open sea and then as the boat began to sink their safety harnesses, which were still attached to the trawler, pulled them underwater.

We did not have time to dwell on our fortunes however as the trawler was still in grave danger so we needed to focus all our attention on lightening her, by throwing fish over the side, fast as possible.

TO PRINT