Death of a Supertanker

by Antony Trew

  Complicated argument followed, incomprehensible to Crutchley, during which the Chairman intervened. ‘This is neither a civil nor a criminal action, Mr Goodbody. It is a court of enquiry, no more. There is a vast difference. It is not clear to me whether you are lodging an objection or simply voicing a complaint.’

  ‘With respect, Your Worship, although it is an enquiry the defendants’ certificates of competency are at risk. I am not formally objecting – we have no wish to prolong these proceedings – but I am bound to say that if at a later stage I find my client is prejudiced I will have to apply for appropriate relief.’

  Counsel for Jarrett and Foley rose to associate themselves with Goodbody’s remarks. Jerome Bassett, counsel for InterOcean Crude and Bulk Carriers Ltd., explained that the point did not concern his clients for whom he was holding a watching brief.

  While Bassett was speaking, Goodbody whispered to Crutchley, ‘Nothing to worry about. Important to get the sympathy of the court at the outset. Puts Frans Lourens off his stride.’

  Gomez, the quartermaster, was the first witness called. Wearing a well-ironed blue denim shirt and trousers, he sat bolt upright in the witness box looking ill at ease in what must for him have been strangely formidable surroundings. Lourens handed him the sworn statement made at the preliminary enquiry. The quartermaster confirmed that it was his and Lourens proceeded to examine him.

  When asked what course he’d handed over to Fernandez at 0400 on 29 October he said he’d not handed over any course because Fernandez was late in relieving him. With the ship on auto-steering he’d left the wheelhouse at about five minutes past four when the chief officer told him to carry on below and ‘chaseup’ Fernandez. He’d gone down and found Fernandez asleep. ‘I give him a shake, watch him put on gear and see him leave for the bridge,’ said Gomez.

  Lourens asked Gomez what course he’d been steering before leaving the wheelhouse. The quartermaster said he could not remember. The ship had been on auto-steering for the last two hours of the watch, and he’d been doing lookout, making coffee and assisting the officer-of-the-watch with compass comparisons and synchronizing clocks. As far as he could recall the course was ‘a bit south of west’.

  Lourens regarded him gloomily. ‘Was it two-six-seven?’

  ‘It can be, sir. I don’t remember.’

  Lourens said he had no more questions.

  Foley’s counsel, Arnold Kahn, the youngest State’s Counsel in court, rose. He was a pale, slight man with a polio limp, a quiet voice and a deferential almost apologetic manner. He asked leave to reserve his cross-examination and the witness stood down.

  Fernandez was called next. Dressed in a smart blue suit he went briskly to the box, took the oath, sat down and looked round the court with the ready smile of a man who knew he was among old friends. He confirmed that the statement Lourens handed him was the one he’d sworn and signed at the preliminary enquiry.

  Lourens rose. ‘Who did you relieve at the beginning of the morning watch on 29 October?’

  ‘Quartermaster Gomez, sir.’

  ‘Did you relieve him on time?’

  ‘No, sir. About seven minutes late. I sleep too long.’

  ‘What course did he hand over to you?’

  ‘No course, sir. He come down and call me. When I go to the bridge, he goes to his cabin.’

  ‘When you arrived in the wheelhouse, did you check the course being steered?’

  ‘Not then, sir.’

  ‘Why not then?’

  ‘When I come to the wheelhouse, the chief officer send me for his jersey. It was cold, you know.’

  ‘When you got back with the jersey, did you check the course?’

  ‘No, sir. The chief officer tell me to go to bridge wing to keep lookout while he goes to chartroom. Afterwards he call me back to the wheelhouse.’

  ‘When you got back to the wheelhouse from the bridge wing, did you then check the course?’

  ‘No. First I make coffee, then the chief officer tell me to take wheel, and then I check course.’

  ‘And what did you then find the course to be?’

  ‘Two-six-seven degrees.’

  ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘Yes. The same was on the indicator.’

  The Chairman intervened. ‘What indicator?’

  ‘Course-to-steer indicator, sir. Is on the console in front of steering position.’

  ‘I see. Please proceed, Mr Lourens.’

  ‘You say the course was two-six-seven degrees. That is a bit south of west, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, sir. West is two-seven-zero.’

  Lourens was fidgeting with his spectacles again. Crutchley began to wonder if this were a danger signal.

  Lourens gave the spectacles a final tweak, looked at his notes, then at Fernandez. ‘Did you alter course later?’

  ‘Yes. Few minutes afterwards the chief officer order easy starboard wheel. We come round easy and I steady on two-nine-five.’

  ‘Why were you altering course?’

  ‘The chief officer pick up a big ship ahead on radar. Coming for us.’

  ‘Did your ship run into fog later that morning?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Did the chief officer call the standby man to go on lookout?’

  ‘Yes. He call Cavalho. Put him on starboard wing of bridge.’

  ‘Did the chief officer inform the engineroom that the ship was in fog?’

  ‘Yes. I hear him telephone. He tell Mr Benson ship in fog. Mr Jarrett tell him to put engines on manoeuvring speed.’

  ‘Was the foghorn being sounded?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I hear chief officer tell Mr Benson that switch for auto-siren is broken. He ask for electrician to come fix it.’

  Again Lourens adjusted his spectacles. ‘Did you hear the chief officer report the fog to the Captain?’

  ‘Yes, sir. After he phones engineroom.’

  ‘What did the chief officer say?’

  ‘He tell Captain we have fog. He says he put lookout on bridge.’

  ‘Did he say anything else?’

  ‘Yes. He tell Captain the auto-switch is no good. Electrician is come to fix it. He say he don’t want to use steam whistle aft because too many people are sleeping.’

  ‘Is that all you heard?’

  ‘No, sir. I hear him tell Captain we alter course for big ship ahead. Also, chief officer tell him there is two small ships on radar on starboard bow. Trawlers, he thinks. Not close yet. He say he keep sharp eye on them. He also tell Captain about the weather.’

  ‘Was that the end of the conversation?’

  Goodbody intervened. ‘Objection, Your Worship. The witness could only have heard what the chief officer said. That was a monologue not a conversation. The distinction is important.’

  The Chairman nodded. ‘Objection upheld. Please proceed, Mr Lourens.’

  Lourens shook his head in silent protest, looking reproachfully at Goodbody before returning to the witness. ‘Was that the end of what you heard?’

  The quartermaster frowned at Goodbody as if associating himself with Lourens’s displeasure. ‘No, sir. The chief officer is listening on the phone. Then he says he is sorry for Captain’s headache. He says good sleep will make it right. Then he is listening again and afterwards he says Captain must not worry. Chief officer will keep sharp eye on everything, and fog can finish soon.’

  ‘Was that the last thing you heard the chief officer say?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Lourens then questioned Fernandez about the sequence of events after the chief officer’s report to the Captain, in particular the successive alterations of course for the two trawlers on Ocean Mammoth’s starboard bow.

  Fernandez could not recall the times of alteration or courses steered, but thought the first alteration to starboard was ‘a bit after four-thirty’ and the return to port ‘close to five o’clock’. They’d altered course to starboard for the second trawler, ‘
about ten/fifteen minutes later’ and back to port ‘another ten/fifteen minutes after that’. Lourens asked him if he could not be more exact. Fernandez said, ‘No, sir. There is too much fog. Plenty is happening.’

  ‘You say plenty was happening. Can you explain what you mean?’

  ‘I am busy on wheel. Five/six times we alter course. Five/six times I must bring ship round easy for new courses. Afterwards I must steady ship on new courses and make good steering afterward. All takes time, sir, with very big ship. The quartermaster has plenty work. Chief officer is also too busy. Sometime with radar, sometime in chartroom. Then electrician is coming up. Busy with auto-switch. Always when we alter course, the chief officer tells me why. Also what he sees on radar, he tells me. He speaks of the trawlers and says we must not foul fishing nets. Then Mr Feeny is come up to fix the radar. It is very busy time, sir. Not possible now to remember all times and courses. Such things are not staying in quartermaster’s head.’

  Lourens was sympathetic. ‘And you knew the chief officer was recording the changes of course and the times in the logbook. So there was no need for you to memorize them.’

  Goodbody rose at once. ‘Objection, Your Worship. My Learned Friend is leading the witness.’

  The Chairman looked up from the notes he was making and frowned at counsel for the enquiry from under bushy eyebrows. ‘You must not lead the witness, Mr Lourens.’

  Lourens nodded and the shadow of a smile flitted across his mournful face. He turned again to Fernandez. ‘So you have no precise recollections of the times and courses steered?’

  Fernandez hesitated, baffled presumably by the word ‘precise’. ‘No, sir. But just like you say. I know chief officer is putting in logbook when he goes to chartroom. But is not possible for quartermaster to remember these things. Too much is happening. I worry too much. Chief officer also worry too much.’

  ‘I see. And how did you know the chief officer was worried?’

  ‘Because of what I hear him say. Like when the Decca Navigator is no good after we alter course for the second trawler. Before that the chief officer is swearing because he say this trawler is doing funny things. Also he must phone Sparks – I mean Mr Feeny, sir – to come up to fix the Decca. Afterwards the radar sets are not working and he is swearing. There is a lot of problems for the chief officer.’

  ‘At what time did the Decca Navigator break down?’

  Fernandez scratched his head. He was obviously thinking hard. ‘About seven/ten minutes after five o’clock. After we alter for second trawler.’

  ‘At what time did the radar sets fail?’

  Fernandez frowned, looked at his feet, tapped his forehead thoughtfully. ‘About ten/fifteen minutes before ship hits the rocks.’

  In response to further questions Fernandez explained what had happened in the wheelhouse during the period shortly before the ship struck and immediately afterwards.

  Lourens looked once again at his notes, took off the pebble-lens spectacles and dangled them by one arm. With casual indifference he said, ‘Was the Captain in the wheelhouse at any time between the ship encountering fog and running aground?’

  Fernandez hesitated, looked momentarily at the massive, dignified figure of Captain Crutchley whose eyes were masked as always by dark glasses. ‘No, sir. The Captain was not in the wheelhouse.’ The nuances of sincerity and apology were there, but somehow the quartermaster’s broken English emphasized the enormity of the Captain’s offence.

  Lourens having said he had no further questions, the Chairman adjourned the enquiry until 2.15 p.m. and the court rose.

  It was almost time for lunch.

  Chapter 25

  During the recess Captain Crutchley, Goodbody and his junior, lunched together at the Palace Hotel in Kenilworth, a few miles down the main road from Wynberg. Goodbody had been talking about the origins of the hotel – a familiar Peninsula landmark – and its associations with the past when, with deep gloom and quite out of context, Crutchley remarked, ‘I imagine Fernandez’s evidence has just about finished me.’

  Goodbody halted a forkful of cabbage and beef on its way to his mouth and regarded the Captain with astonishment. ‘Finished you, my dear chap? Not at all. Good honest seafarer, our friend Fernandez. Telling the truth, no doubt. But I shall upset his evidence. Dear me, I shall. What did interest me was what he had to say about the various alterations of course for a ship and two trawlers. All in the hour before the stranding. All towards the land. Most interesting.’

  ‘In what way interesting?’

  ‘Ah. That may become more apparent as matters proceed. Now do change your mind and taste this wine. It’s a Constantia cabernet. Rather closer to a burgundy than a claret, but really very good.’

  ‘No thank you, Mr Goodbody. Not at the moment.’ Nothing, including Goodbody, had succeeded in persuading the Captain to drop the ‘mister’.

  After that Crutchley tried to get the barrister to talk about the quartermaster’s evidence, but Goodbody refused to be drawn. It was soon apparent that his appetite matched his size and he ate and drank with tremendous gusto. Crutchley hoped the wine would not dull the big man’s wits by the time they got back to court.

  In between courses Goodbody filled in time with questions about Ocean Mammoth: her handling characteristics, turning circle, responses to different degrees of wheel and various engine revolutions. He showed particular interest in the duties of quartermasters and men on standby duty, wanting to know what went on during a typical night watch. He was endlessly curious about the wheelhouse and chartroom, and the positioning of the Decca Navigator, the two radar sets and other equipment. He produced a notebook and ballpoint and got Crutchley to draw diagrams of the layouts. When the Captain had finished, Goodbody examined the diagrams closely, asking a number of questions, few of which seemed relevant to Crutchley. Very often Goodbody was going over ground they’d covered in previous consultations, but Crutchley realized from his questions that here was a man with an exceptional memory and a gift for getting quickly to the heart of the matter. He was learning, too, that Goodbody was by no means the genial bon viveur he sometimes held himself out to be.

  When they got back to the Magistrate’s Court with ten minutes to spare, Goodbody asked to be excused. ‘Frans Lourens wants a word with me before the resumption.’ He chuckled. ‘Probably golf.’

  Crutchley said, ‘Of course,’ and made his way down the wide red brick corridor to the entrance to ‘C’ court. With a heavy heart he opened the door and went in.

  On resumption that afternoon Goodbody and Kahn were granted leave to defer their cross-examination of Fernandez to a later stage and the witness stood down.

  Cavalho was called next. The necessary formalities completed, Lourens began his examination.

  ‘Were you on standby duty during the first part of the morning watch on 29 October?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Were you at some time called to the bridge for lookout duty?’

  ‘Yes. At about four-thirty.’

  ‘Where were you stationed on the bridge?’

  ‘In the starboard wing, sir.’

  ‘Was the ship then in fog?’

  ‘Yes. Thick fog.’

  ‘Can you tell the court what happened between that time and when the ship ran aground?’

  Cavalho explained that at no time had he been able to see anything. The fog had been too dense. But he had heard the sirens of other ships. One which had been approaching had passed down the port side, about two miles away. There had been others in the distance, also to port. He spoke of the two trawlers on the starboard bow for which Ocean Mammoth had altered course. With some pride he recounted how he reported to the chief officer that he’d heard a car hooter, and been told it must be a fishing boat. A few minutes later he’d felt the ship turning to port under full helm, the engine vibrations had increased, ‘emergency stations’ had been sounded and the chief officer had broadcast a warning that there was land close ahead. He had then heard blasts fr
om a foghorn close on the starboard bow. Almost immediately after that the ship had struck.

  Lourens said he had no further questions. Goodbody and Kahn were granted leave to defer cross-examination to a later date and the witness stood down.

  Benson, the second engineer, was the next witness. He testified that he had been in charge of the engineroom during the morning of 29 October. The chief officer had informed him that the ship was in fog and ordered ‘manoeuvring speed’ at 0430. Asked if he was sure of the time he reminded Lourens that it was recorded in the Engine Movements Book which had been handed in to court as an exhibit. Benson went on to say that the chief officer had at the same time reported the defective auto-switch and asked for an electrician to be sent up to fix it. This man, Jackson, had gone to the wheelhouse at about 0445 to examine the switch, and had subsequently come down to get the necessary spares.

  The chief officer had later informed him, said Benson, that the radar sets were unserviceable and as they were still in thick fog had ordered the engines to be put on ‘standby’ at 0529. Finally, at 0536, the ‘full ahead’ signal was received from the bridge and at the same time the chief officer told him by phone that there was land close ahead, that the wheel was hard-a-port, but that the ship might get clear. Immediately afterwards ‘emergency stations’ was sounded. Soon after that the ship struck and ‘emergency full astern’ was signalled from the bridge. All these movements, with their times, had been recorded in the Engine Movements Book.

  In response to Lourens’s further questions, Benson told of what had happened in the engineroom when the ship struck and afterwards.

  Lourens had no more questions, and defence counsel were granted leave to cross-examine at a later stage.

  The witness stood down.

  The next witness was Mr McLintoch, the chief engineer. Soon after 0430 Benson had informed him that the ship was in fog and that the engines had been put on ‘manoeuvring speed’. As to what had happened after that he had little to contribute since he had only gone to the engineroom when the engines were put on ‘standby’. His answers to Lourens’s questions about events from that time on confirmed Benson’s account. Lourens announced that he had no further questions and McLintoch was excused.