FOUNDATION FRANKLIN
At some time late on February the second, the
Foundation Franklin
made radio contact with us, and asked us to fire a rocket into the
air so that she could see us. The first rocket was a bit optimistic,
but after a while, we sent up another one, and we were seen. As the
second one went up, the tug spotted us and came as close to us as
she dared. She was mobile, we were not; she just had to stand off
whilst the Tug master radioed his requirements to us for towing,
and his intentions for getting things under way. The Master of the
tug wanted us to use the “sea length” of the
anchor cable,
thus
avoiding any chafing of his wire on the ship. The Captain wouldn’t
hear of this.
In the event, the tow rope was placed over a
bollard
and lashed
there. The tug informed us that they would come as near alongside
as possible, and fire a
rocket
across our fore deck, and that all crew
should keep clear the deck, but stay handy to retrieve their line after
the rocket landed. The first rocket missed. Considering the
continual changing positions of the two ships, it is hardly
surprising! As it was, we were all quite impressed when the next
rocket came squarely over number two hatch, trailing the heaving
line right across the deck. In no time, we had retrieved the line and
run it up to the
fo’c’s’le head where we fed it through the starboard
fairlead.
We started pulling by hand. They attached a much heavier
rope to the relatively light heaving line, and then a heavier rope still
was attached to that. It was the heavier rope that we could wrap
around the
windlass and start heaving in the heavy wire rope that
was to be our tow rope. The tug people had even squeezed the eye
of the tow rope to make it narrower so that it would fit right
through the fairlead. In order to be able to bring more of the towing
wire aboard, we had rigged up a block on the after end of the
fo’c’s’le head, and from there to the windlass. Once we had a
decent length of wire aboard, we “stopped it off” and slipped the
eye of the wire over the nearest bollards. Once there, we then
lashed the wire rope in such a way that it couldn’t “jump” off the
bits.
It was all over in a surprisingly short time. However, it mustn’t be
assumed that it was as easy as it appears to have been from what I
have written. During all these operations, the ship was, of course,
behaving very violently, and just trying to keep upright required
quite an effort. We were all wearing heavy oilskins and sea boots,
which whilst offering us the best protection from the weather, are
not the easiest of things to work in. Tons of water were still
crashing over the fo’c’s’le head, often causing us to at least pause
in what we were doing until a more favourable moment came along.
Having secured the tug, the Mate informed the bridge, who in turn
informed the tug Master.
There was no question of us being towed anywhere in that weather.
The best thing the tug could do for us was to stand off to our
starboard bow, and hold the ship’s head into the storm. This he did,
and the violent rolling of the ship that we had endured for the past
several days became just violent pitching and tossing once more.
We still had tons of water smashing over the fo’c’s’le head after
each wave, but anything was better than the continual rolling that
had some times almost put the mast head down to the water. Life
became easier; we all felt that sense of relief. There was no point in
anyone going on the wheel, so lookouts both in the wheelhouse and
on the Monkey Island were kept. The Captain stayed on the bridge.
The tug was using several hundred fathoms of towing wire, so he
was stood off, well away from the ship. Some times, we could
hardly see him. One thing that subconsciously surprised me was
that the length of towing cable was so heavy that most of it was
submerged for most of the time, and yet with the continually violent
pitching of the ship, there must have been considerable strain on the
bollards which held the end of the tow rope on the fo’c’s’le head.
I suppose there must have been plenty of information passing
between the tug, the Captain, and the shore based weather stations.
All we knew in the mess room was that the weather did not look
like easing up. Life carried on. We spent time below, we spent time
on watch, and we ate our meals, all in this topsy-turvy world of
violent motion. There was no expectation of a let up at any given
time. We just knew that even the North Atlantic had its better
moments, and that our turn was bound to come.
Just over a day later, at 9 AM on the 4th of February, the tow line
parted, and before we knew it, we were back, beam on to the
weather, and rolling as badly as we ever had. The best that can be
said of it is that it occurred during daylight hours. Both Captains
agreed that the weather was too rough to try another tow. It was to
be another twenty four hours before it was deemed safe to effect
another connection. It was decided to try again at 9 AM on the 5th
of February.
Once more it was “all hands on deck” and off to the fo’c’s’le head
to view the damage. Even with the smooth, round edges of the
fairlead, the violent motions of the ship had caused the wire to
chafe itself to destruction. The eye of the wire remained forlornly
on the bits, whilst the rest of the wire lay somewhat forlornly along
the deck as far as the fairlead where the end of it lay shredded. The
crew of the tug had already reeled in what was left of the tow rope.
They would have had quite a bit of work to do, serving the end of
the wire, and cutting off the useless strands that were splaying out
everywhere. By the time they had hauled in the complete wire,
several fathoms of its length would have been rendered useless.
We unlashed the now useless end of the rope as it lay on the bits,
and tossed it overboard. We took shelter underneath the fo’c’s’le
head as the tug came as close as he could to fire another rocket
aboard. This time, it came straight across the fore deck first time.
As before, we took it up to the fo’c’s’le head, and began the
hauling in process. From the small heaving line, through to a more
substantial rope to which the towing wire was attached. Because
the eye of the towing rope was now no longer any use, the tug sent
us over half a dozen
“U” clamps
with which to make an eye in the rope. This meant that we had to
bring aboard a much greater length of wire so that we could form a
large loop, and secure the end of the towrope to itself, thus forming
an eye. This took quite some time, much longer than the first tow
had taken to secure. Since we had to handle relatively small nuts
and spanners, it was not feasible to wear gloves. With the spray still
lashing us, it was quite cold and wet up there. However, after
several hours’ work, we had fitted all the “U” clamps, and the tow
was under way again. Even as we were leaving the fo’c’s’le head,
we could feel the easing of the ship’s movement as the tug took the
strain, and brought us around once more to face the weather.
I must say here that the
Empire Abbey, although under charter to the Ministry of War Transport, was run by
Elders and Fyffes,
the banana importers. Since most of their (Elder and Fyffes) work
was to and from the West Indies, quite often they carried cargoes
of
rum.
It was a custom in the company to give each crew member
a “tot” of rum each week. During our extended time on the
fo’c’s’le head, the Mate had seen fit to bring up a bottle of rum, and
give us each a shot “to warm us up”. I have to say that although I
do not normally drink rum myself, it was extremely well received by
us. With about half a dozen of us or more on the fo’c’s’le head at
any one time, by the time we had each had a tot of rum, there was
still a bit left in the bottle. The Mate would designate two men to
take the remainder of the bottle, and “have break” under the
fo’c’s’le head, finish off the bottle, have a smoke, and then return to
work.
Although we still couldn’t go anywhere, it was a pleasure, just
being able to stand up without having to hang on to everything in
sight. For the first few hours of our second tow, we were just
“stood to”, head on, into the weather, but it wasn’t long before the
weather eased a bit, and we started the long tow to
Halifax.
Despite
the weather, the Captain had decided that we should make every
effort to get under way. Our voyage was brief. The weather became
progressively worse, and at about noon on the seventh of February,
the tow parted for the second time. Once more we were left to the
mercy of the wind and sea.
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