They had been returning to the boat that evening when they noticed a sharp drop in the temperature and increased wind. A storm was on its way.
Chapter 5
Damage limitation
The violent storm had caused havoc over a wide area both on land and at sea. Across the dock and in the marina canvas had been shredded, masts broken and boats had been damaged. Even boats on secure moorings had been swamped and some sunk. There had been mayday calls and requests for help at the height of the storm and into the early morning. Before dawn the manager of the marina in Zadar was calling the sailboats that had been rented or which were in use. Three were fine, two had minor damage but Pharmaco was not answering the radio. It was possible that the storm had damaged the aerial or radio in some way. They could be perfectly safe or they could be in need of help. In over twenty years he had not lost a boat or crew member from his marina and he wasn’t about to start now. He had the sail plan the skipper had submitted and could estimate the general position of the boat. If they followed the plan they would have been at the centre of the storm. He then joined the dozens of others on the marine radio and started to ask if anyone had seen Pharmaco. By mid-morning he was concerned. There had been two sightings of the boat in previous days. These confirmed the general position but nothing had been seen of the boat since the storm. He could specify the last known position and possible direction and had no qualms about reporting the boat missing to the coast guard. He was painfully aware that the search area was huge. Immediately after the coast guard he phoned Madame Kovačić, the owner of the sailboat, to give her the worrying news.
The effects of the storm were clear around the dock as Jack and the others walked to a nearby cafe to get breakfast. Advertising boards had been flattened and anything not tied down now littered the area. The good news was that the storm shouldn’t affect the final stages of work on their ship. After breakfast they continued with setting up the engineering workshop and dive equipment store. They were just about to break for a late lunch when Marco, the owner of the boatyard, gave Jack and Sandro a shout and said they had a visitor. They stopped what they were doing and made their way to the rear deck.
A white Mercedes limousine was parked at the foot of their aluminium walkway. Jack thought it was odd that the car had got so close to the ship since he had been told that all vehicles must park in the car park some distance away. A guy in a dark suit got out of the car, took a couple of steps and opened the rear passenger door. Even at a distance Jack could see that the driver filled the suit! He was a big man who stood impassively as a woman, completely overdressed for a working dock, started to get out. She walked to the foot of the walkway and with a clear American accent called out:
‘May I speak to Mr Collier and Mr Calovarlo?’
Jack moved toward the rail and shouted back:
‘I’m Jack Collier and this is Sandro Calovarlo.’
Jack walked carefully down the walkway, holding onto the rope supports on either side. As he stepped onto the dock he held out a grubby hand and asked:
‘How can we help you?’
‘I would like to talk to you about an urgent search and rescue operation, north-west of here, that I would like you to conduct. Is there anywhere we can sit and talk?’ she added as she looked up at the Sultano.
‘I’m sorry, I think you are mistaking us for someone else,’ Jack replied. ‘We are here for the handover of the ship. We’re not a search and rescue team,’ he added as he turned and with a gesture introduced Sandro.
‘Please, I know who you are. Would you give me a few minutes to explain before you say no?’ she responded with an urgency and resolve that Jack wasn’t expecting.
Somewhat confused he turned to Sandro looking for a reaction. It was clear that the presence of an attractive woman was having the usual effect on Sandro. With a flourish he turned and with his arm gestured to the woman.
‘Please, come aboard. I’m afraid we cannot offer you anything to drink but there’s a place we can sit. You will need to be careful where you walk. Let me help you.’
It was almost comical. Kev, Will, Shaun and Patrick, dressed in work clothes, were standing like a bedraggled guard of honour on deck whilst a very attractive woman negotiated the walkway in less than appropriate shoes. Sandro had his hands on her waist supporting her all the way to the deck. Jack followed. Once in the main saloon Sandro directed her to the curved bench seat whilst the others sat around the large table. Without an invitation she introduced herself as Mrs Petra Kovačić, the owner of the sailboat Pharmaco and explained how two of her staff had been sailing, or probably at anchor, in the area north-west of Zadar when the storm had hit the area. She knew the general area in which they had been sailing but there had been no radio communication from the boat in over twelve hours. She went on to explain that there had been two sightings of the boat in previous days but nothing in the hours before and after the storm. She concluded:
‘I am not worried about the boat, it’s insured, but the people on that boat are important to me. Will you look for them, for me… please?’
Sandro looked around the table and directly at Jack. It was Jack who replied:
‘I can understand your concern over the missing people, but we are simply not equipped to do it. We don’t know these waters, we don’t have a boat and we are fully committed to finalising the refurbishment of the Sultano. The coast guard, police and local sailors are far better equipped to undertake such a search and at no cost’, he added.
‘I have every confidence in the police and coast guard,’ said Mrs Kovačić as she sat opposite Jack, ‘but they are extremely busy at the moment as you can imagine. I am prepared to pay handsomely for a few days of your time, funds you could invest in equipping your ship.’
She went on:
‘I have taken the liberty of talking to Marco. He is happy to lend you the Blizbanci, his power boat catamaran for a few days. He tells me it would be an ideal vessel from which to conduct a search. He will fill it with fuel and provide a skipper and mate. The manager of my marina can be here in less than one hour to brief you on the sailing plan of the Pharmaco. I’m prepared to offer you US$ 15,000 in cash for forty-eight hours of your time. All I ask is that you give my request some urgent thought. Every minute may count,’ she added.
The woman looked around the saloon and at the work under way.
‘From what I can see, and from what Marco tells me, the outstanding work on your ship will take more than 48 hours,’ she observed.
Jack looked across to Sandro. ‘Can you give us a minute?’ he said.
Even at such notice it made good sense to take up the offer. The outstanding work on the Sultano was taking longer than expected and they were debating whether to return to the UK and come back when the boat was ready for final open water trials and handover. It didn’t take long for them to decide they had nothing to lose, but Jack asked:
‘Can you confirm that the search is limited to forty-eight hours and payment is forthcoming regardless of whether we find the crew and sailboat or not?’
‘US$ 15,000 for forty-eight hours of your time with the cruiser and crew provided free of charge,’ she confirmed. ‘All I ask is that you try to find the people on the boat. If they are alive, simply bring them to the marina in Zadar. If you find them dead, then contact me immediately and my people will liaise with the authorities to recover their bodies. If you find the wreck of the Pharmaco, merely confirm the location. I can then alert the insurance company and they can decide whether to salvage it or not. All I ask is that you search for them. I am not asking you to salvage the boat or recover bodies,’ she stated quite forcibly.
The marina manager had arrived in less than an hour of Mrs Kovačić phoning him. He brought a chart of the area with the route and recommended anchorages marked on it. He had also summarized the weather conditions and judged that most of their trip would be on the engine and not under sail. The sightings of the Pharmaco strongly suggested they were following the ro
ute suggested. It limited the area to be searched.
They had left Shaun and Patrick on board the Sultano because they wanted to complete the final set up of the engines and to ensure all the preserving liquids and greases had been removed. The four of them had packed an overnight bag and kit and walked around the dock with the boatyard owner to board the catamaran. They spotted it next to a slipway by the side of a large hangar. It was clearly a no frills working boat. The once pristine white fibreglass was now dull and scuffed with years of hard use. A row of scrap car tyres lined the starboard side and a solid, bleached, orange life raft was lashed to the for’ard deck space between the two bows. Marco, the owner, led the way. As they got closer they could see the boat had a low waist and large open rear deck that led to large double plexiglass sliding doors. Jack’s impression of the boat was changing by the second. It may be a no frills working boat but it was neat, tidy and well equipped. Jack could see the dull yellow horse shoe life belt lashed to the rear rail with an EPIRB, an Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon, fitted to the rear rail next to it. The skipper must have been watching them because as soon as they reached the side of the boat he appeared and welcomed them in Croatian. Jack guessed it was the equivalent of “welcome aboard” and moved to shake the skipper’s hand and greet him with a smile. Behind him appeared a skinny youth who said nothing and just looked down at his feet. He wasn’t inspiring as a captain’s mate but the boat looked well kept so he must know his job.
Within minutes they had transferred three large crates of diving equipment and secured them to the rear deck. They simply dumped the other bags in a pile in a corner. There would be plenty of time to sort out sleeping arrangements later. The marina manager spread a chart of the area on the saloon table. They could see the planned route and likely anchorages of the Pharmaco marked on it. They all stood around the table as the marina manager and Marco spoke rapidly in Croatian. Marco then summarized what they knew: that the sailboat was expected to be away two or three days, four at most. The recommended route and anchorages were sensible considering the prevailing wind was expected to be north-east and slight for the next two to three days. Just like the marina manager he guessed they would be motoring most of the time on their outward legs and then sail back in a single day on the return leg. If the wind remained north-east they would have a comfortable and quick return on a broad reach. It was Sandro who queried the short legs being proposed on the sail plan. They weren’t sailing very far each day, really motoring from anchorage to anchorage. Was it really worth the bother he asked. It was then that Marco crudely explained that the two British men, Lawrence Anderson and James Blake, were not alone! There were two Croatian hostesses with them! Well, Jack called them hostesses but it was pretty clear from the gestures that Marco expected the services provided to be more than conversational! Almost as an afterthought he mentioned that one of the men, Mr Blake, was not a sailor. As such he expected much of the time to be spent on the motor and not under sail. The two sightings reported had put the Pharmaco on the expected track, but no one had seen them before or after the storm.
‘Marco,’ asked Jack, ’do you have any information on the areas already searched, sea and air searches?’
Marco slipped a few sheets of paper from the file on the table and scanned them. Then, with a wave of his hand, went on:
‘All boats in the sector are accounted for, but not Pharmaco. The coast guard have searched the whole coastline but no sign,’ he said.
They all looked at the chart. Jack tried to summarize their thinking:
‘We know they had spent the night on the boat with the two hostesses and left about midday the next day. We know they were spotted, motoring, about here by mid-afternoon. It is pretty close to the recommended anchorage. Let’s assume they are keen to, er, forge close Anglo-Croat relations. They would have plenty of time to motor to the anchorage, which is secluded, and settle down for the night.
‘Let’s assume a late start the next day. What other secluded anchorages are there on route to the ones recommended? Let’s say no more than twenty nautical miles away.’
Jack looked at the marina manager who gazed at the chart and then smiled. As he did so he checked a sheet in his file, thought for a moment, before he dropped a gnarled stubby finger onto the chart and pointed to a small bay short of the recommended anchorage.
‘Here,’ he said. ‘See, high tide 3.07p.m…. here, two metres… Pharmaco 1.68 metre… no problem.’
When they looked closely they could see a narrow channel from the open sea into a small bay. The bay was a rough oval shape with a sandy shore to the north and deeper water to the south. The chart indicated there was a good anchorage with a sand and shingle bottom. The chart indicated the channel to be two metres and so at high tide, when they could be passing, it would have been possible to motor into the bay. It would be totally secluded and mean a shorter sail back to the marina the next day.
‘We could track the coast between the first anchorage and the bay. If the Pharmaco foundered, there is bound to be wreckage of some sort. It will be by the shore, blown by the wind. Then, I reckon the first place to look is on the south edge of that bay. It looks a good anchorage, and a good place to be in such a storm. However, if they had a problem they would be stuck. They wouldn’t be able to get out until the next high tide.’
Marco flagged two other potential anchorage sites along the likely route. It was a popular area and one would have expected other boats to have seen the Pharmaco or wreckage from it, but the bay looked to be the most likely spot.
Chapter 6
Search and rescue
Once the plan of action had been agreed they were left in the capable hands of the skipper and his mate. Marco and the marina manager stepped off the boat and handled the lines as the skipper eased the Blizbanci, away from the dock side. Within minutes they were cruising at the maximum speed of fifteen knots towards the first anchorage and expected to be there before mid-afternoon. If the boat had foundered between the anchorage and the marina someone would have spotted the wreckage so they pressed on. As they approached the anchorage the skipper followed a course parallel with the shore and as close as possible. Jack, Sandro, Will and Kev were stood on the deck peering towards the shore through binoculars. A couple of times they spotted debris on the shore line and the skipper slowed the boat to take a closer look. Smashed polystyrene boxes, the odd wooden pallet, a coil of old rope, plastic bottles and weed were all they found. There was nothing from the Pharmaco.
By late afternoon they were adjacent to the entrance to the hidden bay. The skipper checked his watch and said:
‘Enough water now… we get in… but not leave until tonight.’
Kev had done the same calculations and nodded to Jack.
‘We’ve got twenty to twenty-five centimetres below the keel at the moment but we’ll be stuck inside the bay until early evening. We may decide to stay here or go on to the anchorage Marco recommended for the night.’
With the twin engines of the cat burbling the boat crept through the gap. Kev was stood on the port bow and Will on the starboard. Jack and Sandro stood by the rail on the for’ard deck; they looked for any evidence of a sailboat or submerged debris. The skipper had his hand on the throttle levers and his eyes on the depth gauge. He looked impassive. Once through he turned the boat to the south and started to creep along the shoreline.
It was Sandro who spotted it first.
‘There, two o’clock,’ he said pointing with an outstretched arm.
Everyone turned their heads towards the shoreline, straining through the binoculars to spot what Sandro had seen. Jack picked it up as well. It looked like a couple of long, white, rectangular swabs. They were the thin cushions used to protect one’s backside from the hard plastic seating area in a sailboat cockpit. As Jack moved the binoculars slightly he picked up what looked like a wine bottle bobbing in the water. As he adjusted the focus he could see a plastic bottle, rope and a bucket. There may have even been s
ome paper and clothing floating in the water! ‘Oh no!’ he thought, ‘this looks like wreckage from a sailboat.’
‘There’s paper or magazines on the shoreline… there are bits and pieces strewn over the whole area,’ announced Kev.
The skipper pulled away from the shoreline and headed for a spot about one hundred metres away. He shouted something to the skinny mate who disappeared below deck and returned a moment later. He walked confidently to the starboard bow and then onto the platform between the two bows where he opened the winch locker. Another shout from the skipper and they could hear the rattle of the chain as it dropped to the seabed. The skinny mate called out the length of chain that was run out as the skipper reversed the boat to set the anchor and straighten the chain. They stopped over fifty metres from the shore.
No sooner had the skinny youth returned the winch control below than he unlashed the small inflatable and lowered it into the water. He handed the line attached to it to Jack, making it clear that he expected him and his friends to look for the sailboat.
They had already decided a strategy for the search. According to the chart the maximum depth of the bay was charted as thirty-five metres at a spot about two-thirds of the distance from the north shore. The seabed then shelved gradually and ended abruptly in fifteen to twenty metres of water at the southern shore. If the Pharmaco had founded in the bora it was likely it would have done so in the southern sector. They would motor gently on a grid parallel to the south shore. The water was calm in the bay and visibility good. If the Pharmaco was on the bottom he expected to see the white hull at fifteen to twenty metres. It was obvious that the skipper had done this before because he gave Jack a length of plastic sewage pipe with a disc of clear glass glued into one end. It was like sitting in a boat with a makeshift telescope giving a clear underwater view.
Missing Presumed Lost Page 4