Saturday 11 July 2009

The Perfect Morning


The sun was shining from a clear blue sky, low down to the east. Hardly a ripple disturbed the water of the bay. To the starboard side of the San Fernando, lying at anchor off the oil terminal, were the golden sands of a beach. Back home on a day like this such a beach would be crowded. It was almost empty. Arcing around the bay, green jungle and forest climbed steeply from the sand towards the ridge of a line of hills. A jetty pushed incongruously out into the water, the piles grey and weather beaten. Forming a tee at the end of the jetty was a berth occupied by some brightly coloured but rust streaked fishing boats. Hanging from a metal structure were a number of black rubber pipes connected to two silver pipelines marching along the jetty and disappearing into the jungle. In the distance, half shrouded by trees several silver tanks shone dully in the sunshine.

All this I took in at a glance as I came out of the accommodation dressed in a pair of shorts and flip flops. In my hand I carried a mug of coffee. I breathed deeply of the warm, fragrant air. The almost empty beach looked most inviting. Away towards one end a few fishermen were tending their nets by their fishing canoes. It was, I thought, a perfect morning.

It was early in the morning and as I stood looking out over the bay, the ships crew were just stirring. The bosun waved as he passed on the way to the bridge to get his daily orders from the Chief Officer. The chief steward staggered towards the mid ships accommodation where I stood with an armful of towels and boxes of soap. The lookout remarked what a beautiful day as he walked from the focastle aft for his breakfast. A normal day with the ship at anchor waiting for the berth to clear.

As I drank my coffee, I was gazing out to sea through the mouth of the bay when I noticed two black dots approaching low over the water. Then born on the breeze came the faint sound of aircraft engines. Before long, it was possible to make out the outline of two single engined planes. Curiously, I watched as the planes rushed towards the bay wondering what they were looking for. As far as I knew there wasn’t any oil under the sea so they could not be surveying. Then they banked steeply left and climbed over the jungle clad hills ahead of the ship. They disappeared.

I was just about to return to my cabin to dress properly for breakfast, when I heard the planes approaching from the land side. I walked across the deck to take a look.

In line astern, the two planes were diving down the slopes just above the trees and heading straight for the tanker. It was just as I had seen in a dozen war movies as the Japanese planes attacked the American fleet.

The lead plane levelled out and headed straight for the ship across the blue water. I watched transfixed as a black object detached itself from the underside of the plane. It fell slowly straight for the after deck. Then I realised it was going to hit the ship. In panic, I dived for cover behind the bulwark.

There was an almighty bang and the ship shuddered as though it had run full speed into a very big wave. The stays on the mast and the wireless arial twanged. Diesel oil spattered the accommodation from the geyser of oil which exploded from the damaged deck. Steam was hissing from fractured pipes and alarm bells were ringing all over the tanker.

Nervously, I risked a look in time to see the first plane wheel away, rushing out to sea. A black object fell from the second plane and I ducked for cover once more. Another ear splitting bang. The shuddering and shaking of the ship was followed by the screaming of fractured steel. The second plane headed out to sea.

It was as though all sound had gone except the ringing in my ears. Then there was the grating of steel plates twisted apart, steam whistling from holes in the pipes and the splash of oil landing back onto the deck. What had happened was so fantastic it was unbelievable. A tanker innocently anchored in a sun brushed bay being bombed. It could not be true but I soon understood that it had taken place.

I climbed to my feet and looked over the bulwark. Oil was bubbling out of the holes in the deck but no longer shooting skyward. I thought my eyes were playing tricks but it appeared the ship was bending in the middle. Yes, I told myself, the aft end is higher than the centre. The funnel looked as though it was slowly falling towards the main deck. At the same time, the ship was slowly settling into the water.

I did not have time to think too much about that had happened. Looking up, I spotted Captain Ruddock on the boat deck staring aft at the buckled deck and the funnel bending towards him. His face was white which matched the knuckles of his hands gripping the rail so tightly I thought he was going to snap it away from its anchor points. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes staring as though he could not believe what he was seeing. Incongruously, shaving foam still clung to his chin.

Spotting me on the deck below, he demanded in a hoarse voice. “ What happened?”

“ Two planes came over and dropped bombs on us,” I answered bluntly still too much in shock to be diplomatic.

“ Whatever for?” he muttered. “ Those bloody rebels.”

Then pulling his shoulders straight, closing his mouth and wiping the shaving foam on the towel he held in his hand, he was the Captain of the San Fernando again. “ Get up on the bridge and get the Chief Officer to sound boat stations. Then come to my cabin to help me.”

Other crew members were pouring out of the accommodation and alarm bells started sounding. As I raced up to the bridge, Captain Ruddock was already issuing orders to organise the crew. I found the Chief Officer and the bosun staring aft and issuing orders over the emergency phone.

“ The Old Man orders everybody to muster by the lifeboats,” I shouted as I rushed through the bridge to the stairs leading to the Captain’s cabin. “ He says to make sure that the radio officer sends out a mayday or SOS.”

“ Where are you off to?”

“ To help the Captain.”

I raced down the stairs and knocked on the door of the Captain’s cabin. When bidden to enter, I found Captain Ruddock on his knees, dressed in his uniform and stuffing papers from the ships safe into two brief cases.

“ Everybody is mustering and getting into the lifeboats, sir,” I said rather breathless.

Captain Ruddock smiled. “ Good Eddie. You are to take one of these brief cases up to the bridge. I will bring the other. Try to make sure it stays with you no matter what happens. It contains copies of all the ships papers and records. I have the originals. Between us we should be able to make sure that these are taken ashore and saved.”

Taking the brief case, I ran down the stairs to my cabin. On the way my shoulders banged painfully into a bulkhead as the ship took a lurch but I ignored the pain. When I got to my cabin, I quickly dressed in my uniform ignoring the lurching of the ship and the groaning of the plates. I shoved my personal effects, my discharge book, identity book, photos, letters and money into a bag I kept for this purpose. Some of the other cadets during my time at sea had scoffed at my caution but it was vindicated now. Slinging this over my shoulder, I raced back up the stairs to the bridge.

When I arrived panting from running, I found Captain Ruddock standing on the bridge wing looking aft. The water was lapping over the deck now and when I looked forward all I could see was the focastle. Looking back aft, it was as though the engine room and the accommodation in the stern were completely cut off from the amidships. The decks were at crazy angles but the four lifeboats were now being filled with crew. Air and oil were bubbling up from the tanks spreading a black sheen over the waters surrounding the ship.

I looked at the captain. His face was lined and he had that broken look of somebody who had come to accept defeat. His shoulders slumped and his hands were shaking.

As though seeing me for the first time, he nodded. “ You had better get down to your lifeboat.”

“ What about you?” I asked even though I knew the answer.

“ There is a life raft at the end of the bridge. I intend to stay until just before the bridge goes under.” He laughed sadly. “ Actually, unless the ship capsizes,. I judge it will not sink completely. There was only twenty feet below the keel, so when it settles on the bottom, the top of the accommodation should remain above the water. Go on. Go for your lifeboat. The third mate is waiting for you.”

“ If it is all right with you, I would like to stay.”

Captain Ruddock put his arm round my shoulder and squeezed. “ Thank you.”

He waved the last lifeboat away. I have to admit as the lifeboat moved away from the ship and deck under our feet bucked and shuddered, I was more frightened than I would ever admit to anybody. Despite my fear, there was no way in which I could have left this vulnerable man on his own.

We stood and watched as the lifeboats pulled away from the sinking ship. Two patrol boats had left the jetty and were racing in our direction. Once again my heart stopped as we felt the grinding of broken plates beneath our feet. Once we had to cling to the bridge rail as the ship lurched and heeled over to starboard.

The water was steadily climbing up the structure. Level now with the main accommodation deck. There was a groan and a long hiss as though an old lady had lowered herself painfully into a chair. The bridge rocked and swayed. The captain and I saw the stern twist and settle. It heeled over to port. With a whoosh, the remaining air bubbled from the superstructure. Then there was silence. Even the hiss of escaping steam had ceased.

The water was now level with the boat deck and the oil sheen spreading out from the ship into the clear waters of the bay look thick and ugly.

Captain Ruddock turned to me and said, “ Thank you for staying with me.”

We walked down the twisted stairs together to the boat deck below the bridge carrying the ships papers, my personal belongings and the Captain's bag. By the time we arrived, a patrol boat was alongside the boat deck. I stepped aboard helped by the crew. The captain took one last look round his command and stepped aboard, leaving his ship to the mercy of the elements.

Monday 6 July 2009

A divergence from my tales of the sea

A first novel published at sixty-eight

An Ordinary Life by Edmund J Gubbins

Edmund Gubbins worked as a ships officer in the Merchant Navy for twelve years after leaving school. He subsequently studied for a degree. On graduating, he became a university lecturer specialising in transport management and UN consultant. During his time lecturing, he published two text books, Managing Transport Operations and The Shipping Industry. He has lived and worked in Louthborough since 1975. During his life, he has traveled widely both for pleasure and for work.

Edmund Gubbins retired in 2005 after almost thirty years service at Loughborough University. After retirement, he started creative writing classes through the WEA in Loughborough learning to hone his writing skills, both prose and poetry.

With much encouragement from the tutor, his first novel has been published at the age of sixty-eight by Youwriteon.com.

The story explores the manner in which most people regard themselves as honest and law abiding although there are times and circumstances when they ignore the rules of behaviour or of some moral code. These people justify their actions by ignoring their conscience or making excuses for their behaviour. In extreme cases they give the impression that morality is not an issue in their case.

The story follows the life of Tom Houseman. From his early childhood on the edge of a hard council estate to eminent Professor with a worldwide reputation and great wealth. Tom Houseman has a boyhood friend called Derek from the council estate and, though their paths diverge after junior school, he stays loyal to his friend.

During his life, he accepts opportunities presented by his friends and his brother. These enhance both his standing in society and his wealth. All the time, he ignores and denies the moral and legal implications of taking advantage of these offers.

As time passes, he has to face the implications of his choices. Will he finally have to face these hard decisions or will he sail serenely on living, to him, this ordinary life?

It can be purchased as a print on demand (POD) book through major booksellers such as Waterstones, WHSmith, Amazon and Barnes and Noble.