Death of a Supertanker

by Antony Trew

  Next came the Cape Agulhas light-keeper who gave evidence on the state of the weather at the time of and preceding the stranding. The first indication he’d had of what was happening was when he’d heard repeated blasts on the siren of a big ship close at hand at 0536. He had at once requested the signal station to sound the International Code signal for ‘You are standing into danger’ – a series of U’s – and he had by VHF radio warned the invisible ship immediately to the east of the lighthouse that she was standing into danger. Soon afterwards he had heard the continuous ringing of an alarm system which he took to be the ship’s. At 0541 he had spoken by VHF to the Captain of Ocean Mammoth who said that his ship was aground and that the DF bearing of the Agulhas radio beacon from the ship was 268°. He had offered to act as a communications link, but the Captain had said he was in direct touch with Cape Town.

  In response to questions by Lourens, the light-keeper said that there was a radio beacon at Cape Agulhas which transmitted continuously night and day. A vessel equipped with radio direction-finding apparatus could get a DF bearing from the beacon at any time and in all conditions of weather including fog. It had been in working order throughout 28/29 October.

  Lourens having questioned the light-keeper on the action he’d taken when the ship stranded and afterwards, announced that he had no further questions. Goodbody received permission to cross-examine the witness at a later stage if necessary.

  Before the light-keeper left the witness box the Chairman commended him for the action he had taken in trying to prevent the disaster.

  At this stage Lourens handed in to court statements sworn by Jackson the electrician, and Feeny the radio operator. He explained that both these men had left South Africa by air for Europe with most of Ocean Mammoth’s crew soon after the preliminary enquiry.

  The Chairman asked whether the statements were to be read in court. Lourens said that copies had been made available to defence counsel but if it were desired the statements could certainly be read out. The Chairman consulted with the Assessors whereafter he ordered that this be done.

  Jackson’s dealt only with the auto-switch, the times he’d been called and gone to the bridge, the faults he’d found – the clipped leads and missing terminal panel – and his visit to stores to obtain spares, delayed because the storeman was asleep and had to be called. The ship had struck before he could carry out the repairs. After that he had abandoned the task for more urgent duties.

  In his statement Feeny, the radio operator, recorded that the chief officer had reported the failure of the Decca Navigator at about 0510. Feeny had gone to the wheelhouse, carried out a quick check, then gone below for the manual. Later when he’d returned to the chartroom and was working on the Navigator, the chief officer had informed him that both radar sets had packed up. At Jarrett’s request he had then begun to check them out since, with the ship in fog, radar was the higher priority.

  He had checked the controls and circuits of the radar sets, then examined the inter-switch unit in the chartroom where he felt the fault might lie. At that stage the fuse on his circuit tester had blown. He decided to go to the radio office to get a replacement. As he left the chartroom he saw the second officer come in from the bridge deck. While he was in the radio office ‘emergency stations’ were sounded, so he remained there as it was his station. A minute or so later the ship struck. From then onwards, through the storm and afterwards until evacuation of the crew by helicopter, he had been busy with urgent communication duties. Since neither radar nor the Navigator were of use with the ship stranded and breaking up, he had made no further attempt to find the causes of their failure.

  The statements were marked as exhibits and handed in to court.

  Lourens now rose to inform the court that he would like to call his final witness – Ernst Rohrbach, an electronics engineer – at a later stage. He would give evidence on the functioning of the Decca Navigator and the radar sets. Lourens reminded the court that statements made at the preliminary enquiry had suggested that their failure at a critical time had contributed in large measure to the stranding of Ocean Mammoth.

  Dirk Ohlsson, counsel for the chief officer, rose to object. He was a tall, thin, undernourished man with sharp eyes and nose which moved in unison, training and pointing in varying directions like mobile antennae. ‘I submit, Your Worship, that it is most inappropriate that this witness – who is evidently to give expert evidence in support of the charges – is to be called after the defendants have been examined by My Learned Friend.’

  The Chairman looked towards counsel for the enquiry. ‘Mr Lourens. Can you answer that?’

  Lourens stroked his chin, regarded Ohlsson with a funereal air, sighed audibly and proceeded. ‘Yes, Your Worship. I will explain my difficulty. I would very much like to have called Rohrbach now. But unfortunately I cannot. He flew to Europe on business almost three weeks ago, expecting to be back well in time for this enquiry. Soon after he arrived in Germany he was involved in a car accident and has only recently been discharged from hospital. He is now said to be recovered and will arrive in Johannesburg by air on Wednesday. He will be available here on the following day. I would suggest to My Learned Friends that his evidence may well be in their clients’ interests and not against them. The alternative to my proposal is to delay these proceedings, something which I am sure My Learned Friends would not wish to do.’

  Goodbody passed a slip of paper to Crutchley on which he’d scrawled. ‘Lourens is a cunning old fox. Don’t worry. I’m pro-Rohrbach.’

  As he destroyed the note, Crutchley wondered if it meant that Lourens had some clever trick of advocacy up his sleeve, or whether it was simply that the eminent counsel in court, busy men with extensive commitments, would be anything but pleased if the proceedings were delayed.

  It was the first time Ohlsson had gone into action and Crutchley watched him carefully. The barrister stood up, his forehead wrinkled as he considered the point while darting sharp glances from Jarrett to Lourens to the Chairman, his long nose aiming at each in turn like a pointer scenting. At last he spoke. ‘In the circumstances, Your Worship, I accept My Learned Friend’s explanation.’

  Messrs Goodbody and Kahn rose to say that in the circumstances they, too, had no objections to the calling of Rohrbach at a later stage.

  The clock on the wall above the entrance showed 4.55 p.m. when the Chairman adjourned the enquiry until the following morning.

  Chapter 26

  THE SECOND DAY

  When the court resumed for the second day of the enquiry, Cavalho, recalled at Goodbody’s request, was first to enter the witness box.

  ‘In your evidence yesterday,’ began Goodbody, smiling in a most friendly way, ‘you said that while you were on lookout duty in the fog there were two trawlers on the starboard bow of Ocean Mammoth?’

  ‘Yes, sir’

  ‘You also said that at no time could you see anything because the fog was so thick. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Did you that morning look into the radar displays?’

  ‘No, sir. I was lookout man on the starboard wing.’

  ‘In your statement at the preliminary enquiry you said you heard a long blast followed by two short blasts from the first trawler. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What did that signal mean to you?’

  ‘I know this signal to be fog signal for trawler with nets in the water. I am fisherman before, sir. In Cape Verde Islands.’ Cavalho’s eyes glowed with pride.

  ‘Yes, and I’ve no doubt an excellent one.’ Goodbody, nodding in affirmation, smiled engagingly at the quartermaster. ‘And the second trawler – what signals did you hear from her?’

  Cavalho considered the question. ‘Nothing, sir. She makes no signal.’

  ‘So you could see nothing because of the fog, and no sound came from the second trawler. Is that right?’

  ‘It is right, sir.’

  ‘Then tell me, Mr Cavalho’ �
�� again the genial smile – ‘How did you know there was a second trawler?’

  ‘The chief officer tell me. He see it on radar. He asks me, “You hear signal from this trawler?” I tell him I hear nothing. He says, “Okay. Trawler has radar. He won’t worry to make signal if he sees other ship.”’

  Mr Goodbody turned for a moment towards the Chairman and Assessors, a look of mild surprise on his face. ‘So the chief officer told you there was a second trawler on the starboard bow, but at no time did you see or hear it. Is that correct?’

  Cavalho’s expression suggested that an important truth had been revealed to him. ‘It is right. I don’t see or hear it.’

  ‘And the big ship you spoke of yesterday – the ship that passed down the port side – before you altered course for the trawlers. You said it was about two miles away. How did you know it was two miles?’

  ‘The chief officer tells me, sir. He says two miles.’

  Goodbody was silent, nodding at the quartermaster. ‘I see. The chief officer told you,’ he repeated slowly, before turning to face the Chairman. ‘No more questions, Your Worship.’

  Cavalho was told he could stand down.

  At Goodbody’s request Fernandez was then recalled.

  The quartermaster walked briskly to the witness box. Once in it he looked round the court with easy familiarity, bowing to the Chairman and Assessors.

  Goodbody rose with a reassuring smile to cross-examine.

  ‘In your evidence yesterday you told the court how you had, during the morning watch of 29 October, altered course for three ships. First for the big ship approaching from ahead, then for the first trawler on the starboard bow, and later for a second trawler on the starboard bow. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes. It is correct.’

  ‘Were each of the alterations by Ocean Mammoth to starboard?’

  ‘Yes. Every time to starboard, sir.’

  ‘On several occasions in your evidence yesterday you used the word “easy” in relation to wheel orders and alterations of course. When you made these alterations to starboard and later back to port were they all on the “easy” basis?’

  ‘Yes. They were.’

  ‘I see. Now in your evidence yesterday, towards the end, you said you were worried that morning. That it was not good to be in the wheelhouse because, with the windows shut and the fog, you could not see or hear the other ships. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Did you at any time that morning look into the radar displays?’

  ‘No. This is not a duty for the quartermaster.’ Fernandez’s tone implied that such a suggestion was highly improper.

  ‘So you could not see or hear other ships, and you did not look into any radar displays?’

  ‘Correct, sir.’

  ‘How then did you know about the big ship ahead and the two trawlers to starboard for which you altered course?’

  Fernandez’s friendly face clouded. ‘The chief officer tells me, sir. He sees with radar.’

  ‘And if he had not told you, would you have known they were there?’

  Fernandez hesitated. ‘No, sir.’

  Goodbody consulted his notes, put them down, jangled some coins in his trouser pocket with one hand, while the other rested on the table at which he stood. He looked up suddenly at the quartermaster and his manner was now stern. ‘You told the court yesterday that you heard the chief officer report the fog to the Captain by telephone. You told us of a number of different things you heard the chief officer say. Is that correct?’

  ‘It is correct, sir.’

  ‘When the chief officer was speaking into that telephone you were at the wheel?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The telephone he was using was on the console in front of – and to the right of – the steering position. Is that correct?’

  ‘It is correct, sir.’

  ‘And the distance between the steering position and that telephone was about five metres, was it not?’

  ‘I think it must be five metres.’

  ‘Could you hear everything the chief officer said?’

  ‘Yes. Everything.’

  ‘How did you know he was talking to the Captain?’

  ‘I hear him say “Captain”, three, four times.’

  Goodbody looked into the far corner of the court and half-closed his eyes as if he were focusing on a distant object. He took his hand from his trouser pocket and pinched his nostrils before looking once more at Fernandez. ‘You also told the court that you heard the chief officer telephone Mr Benson to tell him the ship was in fog. Can you tell the court what Mr Benson said in reply?’

  Fernandez shook his head. ‘It is not possible, sir. I only hear what the chief officer say.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Goodbody smiled understandingly. ‘So you could not hear what the Captain said when the chief officer telephoned him?’

  ‘No, sir. It is not possible.’

  ‘When you heard the chief officer making that report to the Captain he was standing at the console, about five metres from where you stood at the steering position. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes. It is correct.’

  ‘It was dark in the wheelhouse, was it not?’

  ‘Yes, dark.’

  ‘Could you see the chief officer?’

  ‘If I look maybe I see his dark shape by the console. I know this must be chief officer.’

  ‘Just a dark shape. Was his back to you?’

  ‘I am watching the steering compass. It is dark. How can I say?’

  ‘Could you, in that dark light, see the telephone he was using?’

  ‘No, sir. It is not possible. But I hear him dialling.’

  ‘So all you were aware of was the dark shape of the chief officer at the console, and the sound of dialling and of his voice speaking into a telephone.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Did you have any means of knowing whether the telephone he was speaking into was connected to the Captain’s telephone?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Well, Mr Fernandez, it is possible to pick up a telephone, to dial, and to speak into it without being connected to anyone at the other end. Is it not?’

  ‘But I hear the chief officer speaking to Captain, sir.’

  ‘Yes. Indeed. But you have said you did not hear the Captain, and that it was dark, and you had no means of knowing if the phone on the console had made connection with the phone in the Captain’s cabin. Is that correct?’

  Fernandez looked across to where the chief officer was sitting and his eyes seemed to signal an apology. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Fernandez,’ said Goodbody. ‘No further questions, Your Worship.’ Ohlsson was frowning at the pad on which he was making a note, and Lourens was looking at Fernandez with a more than usually mournful expression.

  Meanwhile, Foley’s counsel, Arnold Kahn, had risen to cross-examine the quartermaster. Large horn-rimmed spectacles and prominent ears gave him an expression that was slightly owl-like, and this was heightened by the way in which his small wiry figure bobbed from time to time as he shifted weight from the good leg to the lame one.

  ‘You said in your evidence yesterday that you were late in relieving Quartermaster Gomez – that you did not check the course being steered when you first reached the wheelhouse. Is this correct?’ Kahn’s manner was nervous, hesitant.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘When did you check the course?’

  ‘When the chief officer tells me to take the wheel. Before we alter for the big ship coming up ahead.’

  ‘How long after you first arrived in the wheelhouse did you take the wheel?’

  Fernandez appeared to give the matter some thought, counting with his fingers and looking at the ceiling as if for inspiration. ‘Must be ten/twelve minutes. First I fetch jersey for the chief officer. Then he put me on bridge wing lookout. Then I make coffee. Afterwards I take wheel.’

  ‘And you had come up
ten minutes late. So that makes it about twenty minutes past four o’clock when you first checked the course. Would you agree with that?’

  ‘Yes, sir. About twenty minutes after four.’

  Kahn shifted his weight from one foot to the other and pulled nervously at the lobe of his left ear. ‘Quartermaster Gomez has told the court that he cannot remember what course he was steering when he left the wheelhouse soon after four o’clock to go below to call you. You told the court yesterday that, after he’d called you, you went to the wheelhouse and he to his cabin. Is that so?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he at any time – in your cabin, or elsewhere – tell you the course being steered when he left the bridge with the ship on auto-steering?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Do you know what course was being steered when Gomez left the bridge?’

  ‘Must be two-six-seven, sir.’

  ‘Why “must be”?’

  ‘I find two-six-seven on course-indicator when I take the wheel. Also ship’s head is on two-six-seven.’

  ‘Quite so. But can you say what the course was and what figures were on the indicator at four o’clock – when Mr Foley handed over the watch?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘In fact you only know what figures were on the indicator – and what course the ship was steering – at about twenty minutes past four. Is that not so?’

  ‘Yes. It is so.’ Fernandez nodded unhappily at this further incontestable truth.

  Kahn informed the Chairman that he had no further questions to ask and the witness stood down.

  The Chairman then adjourned the enquiry until 2.15 p.m.

  On resumption of the enquiry after lunch Kahn asked for the recall of Cavalho.

  ‘You were standby man during the first part of the morning watch on 29 October?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What are the duties of the standby man?’

  ‘If the officer of watch wants extra hand for anything, he calls standby man.’