Rescue of the Bounty: Disaster and Survival in Superstorm Sandy

by Michael J. Tougias

  Jenny’s heart sank and her stomach felt as if there were a boulder in it. What have I done? she thought. I failed everyone. This is my fault if the headwinds are worse than expected and we have to ditch.

  Steve read her mind and reassured her they would still be fine. To be on the safe side, though, he did another calculation using their current speed, and the cushion improved a bit. Both pilots knew they’d be cutting it close and would have to fly in an exact straight line; they could not let the winds push them even a few feet off course.

  As the pilots discussed fuel and contingency landing plans, the survivors settled in for what was anticipated to be a two-hour, turbulent flight back to land. One by one the sailors began to fall asleep.

  One survivor couldn’t get the images of Claudene, Robin, and John Svendsen out of his thoughts. Two of those three people were at the mercy of the seas. He crawled closer to Neil and asked, “Are there any ships going for the last two people? We can’t just leave them out there. I don’t even want to think about the possibility that they didn’t make it.”

  Neil tried to console the man. “We are very good at what we do. We will find your friends. A third helicopter is coming out.”

  Speaking into his headset, Neil said to Commander Bonn, “If you see the other helicopter approaching, let me know right away. One of the survivors is really upset, and I want to point the other aircraft out to him.”

  “Roger,” said Steve, “I understand. And let him know the C-130 is still out there searching.”

  A short time later, Steve told Neil that the third helicopter would be coming by on the right side of the aircraft.

  Neil tapped the survivor on the shoulder and positioned him at the window. A minute later the other helicopter went by. The survivor watched it go, heading into the teeth of Sandy.

  • • •

  On that third helicopter, flown by pilots Brian Bailey and Nick Hazlett, flight mechanic Tim Kuklewski was awestruck by the sight of Bounty. “When we arrived at the Bounty,” he recalled, “I was surprised how big it was. Each time a wave crashed on it, various items would come loose, ranging from wooden planks to life jackets. It was an incredible scene, and it looked like the ship would be swallowed by the waves at any moment. I took my iPhone out, aimed it out the doorway, and snapped off three quick shots.”

  Tim and his crew saw how the debris field stretched for miles. With the C-130 guiding them, they hovered as low as possible over promising survival suits. Some suits were quickly identified as empty because they were folded over or were clearly flat, but others were filled with a combination of air and water, making it look as if a person were inside. Pilots Bailey and Hazlett kept approaching these suits from all different angles.

  “Rescue swimmer Tim Bolen and I kept getting our hopes up,” said Tim. “We were hoping to see a face or maybe a hand rise out of the water. We would not fly off until we were one hundred percent sure they were empty.” But time and time again, the suits were unmanned, and after more than an hour of searching, they, too, hit their bingo and headed back to Elizabeth City, where they rested and refueled, preparing to head back out later that day.

  A fourth helicopter was launched at noon and resumed the search. Rather than go to the Bounty, which had been examined several times, this crew followed the debris field a full two miles out from the ship. The crew, consisting of pilots Matt Herring and Kristen Jaekel, flight mechanic Ryan Parker, and swimmer Casey Hanchette, scanned the storm-tossed seas below them, hoping for some sign of life. After completing the first search pattern and coming up empty, they began their second search. Ryan noticed how one Gumby suit floated differently from the others. “It was more spread out than the others suits we investigated, so we came back around and got in a low hover. Then the hood of the suit flopped open and we could see blond hair.”

  Rescue swimmer Casey Hanchette was immediately lowered, and once in the water he unhooked and swam toward the unconscious sailor, who was floating facedown. The sailor was Claudene Christian. Casey immediately got her in the sling and clipped his harness back on the hook, and they were lifted up to the helicopter together. He and Ryan administered CPR the entire hour-and-a-half ride back to the air station. But their nonstop efforts were for naught. Claudene was dead.

  Claudene had a laceration on her nose, but showed no other signs of trauma. We will never know if she survived for a time in the water or if she was pulled down by the rigging and died quickly.

  After an incredible rescue of fourteen people by the coast guard, one Bounty crew member had been taken by the hurricane and Captain Walbridge was still missing, and the odds of his being found alive were shrinking with each passing hour.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  HELD BY THE SEA

  When the survivors touched down at Elizabeth City, they were swarmed by people trying to help: police, paramedics, other coast guard staff, and the Red Cross. Those sailors still in survival suits needed help exiting the helicopters because of all the water inside their suits. They could barely take a step, and the rescue swimmers and flight mechanics asked the survivors to sit on the edge of the helicopter doorway while slits were cut in the feet of the Gumby suits to let the water drain out.

  Once off the aircraft and inside the station, everyone was interviewed by coast guard officials. Claudene and Captain Walbridge had not yet been found, and the search-and-rescue teams were desperate to find out anything that would help in their efforts.

  Adam Prokosh was treated at a hospital for his separated shoulder and the fractured vertebra in his back, then he was reunited with the rest of the survivors at a hotel, where he shared a room with Josh. A couple hours later they learned that Claudene had been found but was unresponsive. Some thought that meant that she was alive, but a short time later word came back that Claudene had died. “Right after we found out,” said Josh, “the Red Cross came to the hotel and we boarded cabs to go to Walmart to get some clothes. Everyone was crying because we had just learned Claudene didn’t make it.”

  Claudene’s parents, Dina and Rex, had been worried about their daughter since Bounty first set sail from New London, and their anxiety only increased when Claudene called them at the beginning of the voyage to tell them how much she loved them. Their concern mounted when they later received the text message from Claudene that said, “If I go down with the ship and the worst happens, just know that I AM TRULY, GENUINELY HAPPY. And I’m doing what I love! I love you.”

  Days of sickening worry passed, and then came the dreaded phone call from the coast guard when Claudene was first located and lifted into the helicopter. The Christians were told Claudene was unresponsive and being given CPR. Dina and Rex immediately began flying on a series of connecting flights to get to Elizabeth City as fast as possible. While waiting for one of the connecting flights in Atlanta, Dina’s cell phone suddenly rang. It was a doctor at the hospital where Claudene’s body had been taken, and he broke the news that Claudene had died. The Christians were heartbroken but also angry. How could this have happened, how could an experienced captain set sail when the whole world knew a hurricane was heading in their direction?

  As images of the sinking Bounty glowed from television sets and computer screens across the United States, the entire country was asking the same question. Part of that answer is held by the sea. After searching twelve thousand overlapping square nautical miles, the coast guard suspended the search for Captain Robin Walbridge. His body was never found.

  COAST GUARD INVESTIGATION

  Three days after Bounty’s crew abandoned ship in 77-degree water, the coast guard suspended its search for Robin Walbridge. That same day, coast guard rear admiral Steven Ratti ordered a formal investigation to determine the cause of the sinking.

  By then, Thursday, November 1, Bounty—a ship that Walbridge once told his crew couldn’t sink because of the buoyancy of its wooden construction—had indeed sunk, leaving only a few bits of debris—unused immersion suits among them—floating on the surface.


  In the weeks immediately following, coast guard commander Kevin M. Carroll began his investigation, talking informally not only with survivors but with experts who knew Bounty well. His goal and that of his agency was to take “appropriate measures for promoting safety of life and property.” Although the investigation was “not intended to fix civil or criminal responsibility,” Carroll nevertheless was charged with determining “whether there is evidence that any act of misconduct, inattention to duty, negligence, or willful violation of the law on the part of any licensed or certificated person contributed to the casualty.”

  Thus when Carroll opened public hearings on February 12, 2013, into the loss of Bounty, the ship’s owner, Robert Hansen, exerted his constitutional protection against self-incrimination and refused to testify. The four surviving Bounty officers and eight of ten surviving crew members did appear as witnesses during the eight days of hearings. Their sworn testimony and that of others provided much of the basis for this book.

  First to testify was John Svendsen, chief mate and the person whom Robin Walbridge anticipated would be Bounty’s next captain. Svendsen was considered a party of interest in the case, because he was the senior surviving officer and could be held responsible for his actions aboard.

  Carroll’s questions led Svendsen through the tale of Bounty’s fatal voyage, a story that would be repeated in many details by the eleven crew members who followed him at the witness table in a hotel ballroom in Portsmouth, Virginia. The chief mate’s testimony was unique, however, in his claim, under oath, that he had confronted Walbridge in New London, challenging his decision to sail toward Sandy. The confrontation was private, he testified. No one but he and the lost captain knew what words were exchanged. The testimony could, given Svendsen’s precarious legal position as the ranking survivor, be seen as an attempt at self-protection, except that crew member testimony that followed seemed to buttress Svendsen’s version.

  The next two to testify—Third Mate Dan Cleveland and Bosun Laura Groves—both told Carroll of their meeting with Svendsen prior to departure, where concerns about the voyage were discussed.

  By the time Cleveland and Groves testified, Carroll and his panel had questioned Todd Kosakowski, the shipyard manager, who revealed his discovery of rot aboard Bounty and detailed his discussions with Walbridge. It was Kosakowski who testified that Walbridge had urged Hansen to sell the ship as soon as he could.

  Kosakowski was followed at the witness table by Joseph Jakimovicz, who had been manager of the shipyard prior to Kosakowski and who said he was less concerned with the rot found in Bounty’s timbers. “I’ve seen a lot worse,” he testified. “I’m basing my judgment on forty years experience. He [Kosakowski] is basing his on five or six years’ experience. That’s probably the difference.”

  Carroll asked all of the crew members about the work done on Bounty in the Boothbay Harbor Shipyard and the condition of the ship. Second Mate Matt Sanders, Engineer Chris Barksdale, longtime volunteer crew member Douglas Faunt, and crew members Joshua Scornavacchi, Jessica Hewitt, Anna Sprague, and Jessica Black appeared in person. Adam Prokosh and Drew Salapatek were interviewed by telephone, their voices amplified for the audience in the ballroom.

  For the benefit of the coast guard, each crew member relived their experiences on board Bounty during Hurricane Sandy and, after they jumped or were thrown from Bounty, in the ocean until they were rescued.

  Among those who attended every day of the testimony were Robert Hansen and the parents of Claudene Christian, Harry Rex, and Dina Christian. The Christians were represented by a lawyer who, along with Hansen’s lawyer and Svendsen himself—all parties in interest—were allowed to question each witness.

  A representative of the National Transportation Safety Board, which was conducting its own investigation of the incident, was included in the panel that assisted Carroll.

  Three months after the hearing adjourned, Ralph J. Mellusi, on behalf of Claudene Christian’s estate, filed suit in the US District Court in New York, seeking $20 million in damages from HMS Bounty Organization LLC and Robert Hansen for, among other claims, “negligence, gross negligence, willful, callous and reckless conduct and conditions” and another $50 million in punitive damages.

  On June 26, 2013, Commander Carroll’s completed report was forwarded by the Fifth Coast Guard District to Coast Guard Headquarters in Washington, DC.

  In a statement in late September 2013, the coast guard explained that “The report will be reviewed to ensure that all relevant matters of fact have been explored and adequately documented; all findings of fact in matters of controversy are justified; all conclusions are logically consistent with the findings of fact and their analyses; causes have been adequately analyzed; human error has been documented and analyzed; all evidence of violation of law or regulation has been referred for appropriate enforcement action; and all recommendations are in reference to conclusions, address conditions observed and are supported in the case file.

  “The investigation contained several safety recommendations, and Coast Guard Headquarters must take the time to review, coordinate with responsible oversight offices, and then draft for the final action response for the Commandant’s signature. Given the complexity of, and comprehensive nature of the review at the Coast Guard Headquarters level, the final date of completion of all Coast Guard activities pertaining to the investigation remains undetermined.”

  Not all of the survivors wanted to talk about Bounty. Already they had endured a period of constant high-level stress, near drowning, the loss of friends, and a barrage of media requests. They then had to relive what happened during their testimony at the coast guard inquiry. It was not, nor has it been, an easy time for some of the crew.

  Yet they knew they would never forget Claudene and Robin and attended memorial services for their lost shipmates. Throwing wreaths into the sea, they wondered what happened to Claudene and Robin in their last hours. At one memorial service they huddled in the snow, knowing this would probably be the last time the surviving crew of Bounty’s final voyage would all be together.

  In the months that followed the loss of Bounty, some surviving crew members took positions on other tall ships and some of the surviving officers were being courted by other tall ship captains.

  AFTERWORD

  Michael Tougias

  When Bounty was first encountering heavy seas, I was, coincidentally, on TV talking about storms. One of the hosts of Fox & Friends asked me if I thought any ships might be in harm’s way with Hurricane Sandy coming up the eastern seaboard. I paused and then explained that the storm had been so well forecast that all ships would be in port. Imagine my surprise when two days later news reports of the dramatic rescue of Bounty splashed across my TV set. That launched my quest to learn more, and later I contacted Doug Campbell to team up and write the definitive account of what happened and why.

  What struck me during my research was how much worse this accident could have been. The sailors’ donning of survival suits and gathering on deck occurred just minutes before the ship rolled to its side. Had they been belowdecks during the capsizing, I doubt anyone would have gotten out alive, especially because there was just a single passageway to the top. Equally important was the coast guard’s decision to launch Wes McIntosh’s C-130 into the heart of the storm. If that plane had not been on scene when Bounty heeled over, the loss of life would have been higher because the aircraft was the only communication link between the ship and the outside world. Without the C-130 crew to relay news of the disaster back to Elizabeth City, the helicopter commanded by Steve Cerveny would not have launched until at least two hours later. The immediate launch of that helo likely saved the life of John Svendsen, who was floating alone in the raging sea, far from both Bounty and the life rafts.

  The airlift rescue of the first five sailors is remarkable not only because it occurred in hurricane-force winds and thirty-foot seas, but also in the dark. The second helicopter had just as dangerous a task: to extra
ct nine sailors from two different rafts under tight time constraints due to fuel limitations. President Obama had it right when he lauded the coast guard. Speaking in New Jersey just after the storm struck, he said, “One of my favorite stories is down in North Carolina where the coast guard was going out to save a sinking ship. They sent the rescue swimmer out and the rescue swimmer said, ‘Hi, I’m Dan, I understand you guys need a ride.’ That kind of spirit of resilience and strength—but most importantly looking out for one another—that’s why we always bounce back from these kinds of disasters.”

  We often think of the coast guard men and women as “just doing their jobs” because most are humble and downplay their role. We assume that when one mission is complete, they move right on to the next. They do, but every now and then a rescue or rescue attempt comes along that moves the rescuers deeply and has an impact that will last well beyond their careers. I recall how Mike Myers, the copilot on the C-130 with Wes McIntosh, wrote to me saying, “It was so painful to experience the Bounty crew’s emotional highs and lows. There was a bond and connection between our crew and theirs. Then to have them go in the water, at night, exhausted, and hastily forced overboard, it became our worst case scenario. We made repeated radio calls, we flashed our lights when in over-flight, we dropped rafts, survival gear, homing devices . . . everything we could to keep their hopes of survival alive. But we had lost our connection with our fellow mariners—we would not hear any other radio calls, see any flares, nor observe any people in the water. It was heart-breaking thinking that the worst had happened.”

  The survivors knew it was a combination of their own gritty determination to live, coupled with the coast guard’s resolve to find and rescue them, that had allowed them to have more tomorrows. But for some, the ordeal wasn’t over after the rescue, and they were plagued with nightmares, post-traumatic stress, and being second-guessed by others.