Title: The Wahine Disaster

Author: Max Lambert

Publication details: Reed Publishing (NZ) Ltd, 1970

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Part of: New Zealand Texts Collection

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The Wahine Disaster

Chapter Five

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Chapter Five

The ship's violent lurch to starboard caused confusion below decks. The veteran Columban, Father McGlynn, had shaved and dressed and was saying his office when "Suddenly I was pitched to the other side of the cabin."

In his C-deck cabin, railways accountant George Reid was in the cabin's toilet when the ship gave the tremendous roll. All his toilet gear clattered into the handbasin and water showered in round the closed porthole saturating part of his bed. "I think we must have been right under the sea. It was a terrific roll. I'd never experienced anything quite as bad before." As the ship righted itself he closed the slatted wooden shutters over the porthole to stop more water coming in. Then, undaunted, he hopped under a hot shower.

In one of the two luxury cabins amidships on B-deck, Frank Penman, a forty-nine-year-old Christchurch sales manager, had already seen the type of weather the Wahine was encountering before the huge sea struck. After drinking his morning tea with his managing director, George Miles, Penman looked out the port side cabin window and saw "an ugly sight of foaming violent sea with the wind sweeping the spray in spirals towards the forward end of the vessel". While he watched the turbulent scene he noticed a flashing light which the Wahine slowly passed but seemed to draw nearer to. With a last look at the rough, tumbled sea, he turned away, feeling slightly apprehensive at the continual rolling of the ship. Suddenly the ship lurched, "propelling my managing director from his bed across the cabin to uncontrollable impact with myself and the furniture. . . ." As they lay in a jumbled heap they saw green water covering the window.

Student Kathryn Dallas had gone up to the smokeroom after waking, as she wanted to be in a good position to leave the ship when it berthed. A petite nineteen-year-old Canterbury University arts student, she was travelling to Wellington for a twenty-first birthday party. As she sat on the port side looking through a window, she noticed that the sea began to get rougher after 6 o'clock. "People passed through the smokeroom on their way to page 38early breakfast, and in some cases it looked as if it wasn't going to agree with them."

Suddenly it got so rough that furniture not secured to the floor began to slide. "I held on to the curtains to avoid being thrown across the room. At one stage one of the several elderly women in the lounge fell under a table and furniture fell all over her. She looked shocked and started crying, but was probably more scared than hurt. I got quite wet with seawater forcing its way through the tightly shut and bolted windows as the waves washed over them. I was feeling very sick by 6.30 but I couldn't walk back to my cabin so I was sick where I was."

Rangiora sheep farmer John Fulton was thrown backwards from his chair at a table near the bar, and catapulted the full width of the smokeroom into furniture on the starboard side. He was badly bruised from the hip to the small of the back, and his flying body snapped legs from a table and two chairs.

In the cafeteria the scene was as desperate. Albert Hansen and his wife Ilene clung grimly to the top of the counter. They watched the stewards getting thrown around as cupboards disgorged piles of crockery. Anything breakable was breaking, including eggs. Mr Hansen was not worried at first but began to get apprehensive when he saw the stewards looking worried and consulting one another. "The windows at the end of the cafe seemed to be covered with this deep green water. I felt the boat twisting and turning and felt it drag over the bed of the sea it seemed."

Down in their C-deck cabin amidships the Kingsburys were still snug in their beds. Shortly after he declined a cup of tea, about 6 o'clock, Lynn felt the ship's roll to port becoming more violent. "At this stage I thought something must be wrong, perhaps the stabiliser disabled." He watched his tie on a coat hook as it swung to and fro and he worked out that as the tie was 27 inches long the 7-inch swing indicated the ship was rolling 25-30 degrees.

Outside they could hear smashing crockery and then the ship began to roll violently to starboard, coming back to an even keel. A chair in the cabin tipped over and Lynn and his wife decided bed was the best place to be in until the ship berthed.

In their cabin nearby, Leslie Wood and his wife Betty from Otahuhu, Auckland, were still in bed enjoying a lie-in before going up to the late breakfast. Both in their mid-forties, they had been on holiday in Queenstown and were to pick up their car in Well- page 39ington and motor home. Finishing her cup of tea, Mrs Wood put it down. "Next thing it shot off the ledge into the basin and smashed. I was most upset at breaking some of the Union company's crockery but it was no time before I could hear crockery breaking all over the ship."

Breaking crockery was the least of Captain Robertson's worries. His ship was in a nightmarish situation: the rogue sea had thrown her further round towards Barrett Reef and the winds, with hurricane force gusts, shrieked through the ship's rigging and battered the bridge deck. The captain was without radar, in a narrow channel between rocks, and had nil visibility. That was frightening enough; but he had also to contend with huge seas and with what he estimated were 90-knot winds, which made control of his vessel almost impossible.

The 30- to 40-foot waves smashed with brute force against the helpless ship with its complement of 735 passengers and crew. The wind whipped the tops off the waves until the air was white with spray. Nothing was visible except the horrible maelstrom of wind-driven sea with the two elements merging into a monstrous cataclysm.

For Captain Robertson the task was to save his ship and those aboard. Picking himself up after his fall he realised from the direction of the wind that the ship was pointing in a westerly direction with the weather on her beam. Any ship, no matter what kind of sophisticated manoeuvring equipment it has, is easier to steer going ahead than astern. The captain decided to continue with both engines full ahead to push her round more to port, the open sea. and safety.

He had been joined on the bridge by Chief Officer Luly. Arriving back from the garage, the chief officer saw the visibility had gone and had a quick look at the radar. The picture had spun round and he realised it was out of order. Through the windows of the bridge he could see the scanner on the foremast still rotating, but the mast was shaking so violently it was touch and go if it would remain with the ship. Bracing himself against the ship's movements, he went and stood by the master amidships and made sure his telegraph orders were received by Third Officer Noblet who was on the port wing telegraph.

The orders came in quick succession as Captain Robertson tried page 40desperately to bring the bow round. He had nothing to navigate with but his instinct and feeling. At times he sensed the ship was approaching rocks ahead and ordered her astern, or else he felt she was near the Pencarrow coast astern and ordered her ahead. Whether the ship was in fact moving ahead or astern was difficult to estimate as, so violent was the motion, for much of the time the two huge propellers were spinning uselessly out of the water.

At 6.20 Luly called the radio officer to the bridge to try and make sense of the radar. Lyver found the screen murky and confused but detected a faint line visible dead ahead and another on the south-west quarter. The picture was even more confused when he switched to low range and the 24-mile range. Switching back to 6-mile range he again saw the faint line. He tried to estimate how distant it was with the range rings, but it was hopeless. From the bridge windows he could see the scanner still rotating. Normally it did 24 revolutions a minute, dropping to 22 in winds of 80 knots. On this occasion its speed was changing to such an extent that Lyver estimated the winds at 100 knots or more. The time was 6.28 and, unable to do anything more, the radio officer switched on the radio direction-finder and returned to the radio room.

Lyver put the radar failure down to water or dampness entering the equipment, the scanner speed being a variable factor, and possible fluctuations in the A.C. power supply.

The direction-finder was on but the captain did not consider using it. He later told the Inquiry he would take off his hat to any man who could use the equipment in the conditions the Wahine encountered.

Down below in the engine room Chief Engineer Herbert Wareing and his five engineers and two electricians worked quickly to carry out the telegraph's demands. Three of the ship's four boilers were operating and could, under normal circumstances, have supplied enough steam for the two motors to develop 9,000 hp apiece. However, during the manoeuvring that morning, the propellors were out of the water so much it was impossible to give them full power.

On the bridge Captain Robertson was still in the awful position of steering blind. Every time the ship's bow swung towards the open sea it was smacked down again by the screaming wind or an extra heavy sea. Some twenty-five minutes after the vessel started to sheer uncontrollably to port, those on the bridge were still without a page 41clue on the ship's exact position in the channel. In the circumstances, it seemed incredible that she had evaded the clutches of the hungry rocks for so long.

By then it was around 6.30 and those ashore were still unaware of the ship's lonely battle, except Stuart Young and his wife Jennifer. At 6.20 Young was looking out through an open window on the sheltered eastern side of his house. Through the driving rain and darkness he saw a ship in the main channel in the vicinity of the Barrett Reef buoy. Having watched her enter and leave Wellington Harbour ever since she came on the run, he was positive it was the Wahine. Helping him recognise her in the atrocious conditions was the tremendous blaze of lights which he always associated with the ferry. As he watched he saw spray sweeping over the vessel and reflected in her lights. There was only one thing wrong: the ship was facing out to sea.

He urgently called his wife, who was still in bed. For about 30 seconds they strained their eyes to try and work out which way the ship was going. They knew she was supposed to arrive in the morning, not leave, and wondered if because of the terrible conditions the master had decided to back the ship in.

(This had been done before. The master of the Union company ferry Rangatira, the first turbo-electric vessel on the run, managed to get his ship and the thousand souls aboard safely into port after hitting rocks further round the coast to the west. That was in February 1936, when the 6,152-ton Rangatira, a sleek, twin-funnelled greyhound of a ship, was bound for Wellington from Lyttelton. The master mistook Sinclair Head several miles west of the harbour for Cape Turakirae, further east, and hit offshore rocks during a severe storm which had a pattern similar to that of 9-10 April 1968. All aboard were fitted out with lifejackets while the ship, her bow badly damaged, backed into harbour to berth shortly after 9 am.)

As Stuart Young and his wife watched, visibility closed in again and the Wahine faded from sight. Ten minutes later Mr Young was horrified to see her on the western side of the reef and moving swiftly sideways between the reef and the shore, towards where the bay swings east. "She appeared to be coming in straight towards the beach. She was so close she was just a blaze of lights."

He called his wife again and she was very distressed, thinking page 42the ship was coming on to the beach. For about 30 seconds they watched, picking out cabin windows on the ship's superstructure before once again the weather closed in and the ship disappeared. Mr Young dashed for the phone, dialled the emergency number 111, and told the police the Wahine seemed out of control on the western side of the reef.

Using binoculars his wife kept searching for the ship. About 20 minutes later she saw the lights again, further south and away from the bay. Taking a bearing on some rocks near the road, she later estimated that the ship had been near the south end of the reef by Outer Rock, or Wanganella Rock as she knew it. The police acted promptly on Mr Young's alert. Before 7 o'clock several patrol cars had arrived at the bay carrying policemen, who vainly tried to spot the stricken ferry.

At about the time the Youngs saw the ship close in, Able Seaman Alvyn Finlayson was straining his eyes through the murk from his lookout post on the port side of the ship's bridge. He thought he saw a house, seemingly only a few hundred yards away.

The time was now about 6.30 and the Wahine was doomed. Her motors had been going ahead for some time at that stage, but Captain Robertson had no idea whether she was in fact moving ahead. Her violent rolling and pitching made any estimate of speed impossible. At 6.33 he decided to order full astern on the port engine and 90 seconds later ordered full astern on starboard. It was instinct, pure and simple, which decided him on this course. As he later told the Inquiry: "You sometimes get the feeling in a fog that you are getting close to the beach. You stop and go astern and when you check up later you find you have missed the beach by a few feet. These things happen. . . ." At the time of ordering astern he estimated the bow was still in a westerly direction with the ship beam-on to the wind.

About five tense minutes passed and then Chief Officer Luly saw the orange light of the Barrett Reef buoy, moored 400 yards south of Outer Rock. Southward from Outer Rock extend drying and below-water rocks, leaving a gap of 200 yards of deep water to the buoy. The chief officer first saw the light on the starboard bow, then on the port bow. A few seconds later he saw rocks to starboard. He cried out, "Rocks ahead!" Almost instantly came the cry, "Rocks astern!" page 43Captain Robertson raced for the starboard wing of the bridge. His reaction when he saw the rocks on the starboard bow was horror: "Then I saw them astern and there was no way of getting out of it."

The doomed ship quickly closed on the rocks. Captain Robertson had the impression "she was picked up bodily and thrown on to the reef". He did not feel the initial impact but a bit later felt the hull bouncing up and down on the rocks. It was the end of a ghastly half-hour of commanding a blind ship in the most hazardous position imaginable.

The impact on passengers who saw the rocks was just as vivid. Colin Bower was on deck before the ship struck, getting some fresh air. He was feeling decidedly seedy and the sight of other passengers being sick in the accommodation made him feel worse. As he reached B-deck, the nausea welled up in side him and he rushed for the rail. The seas were huge and waves were up to the deck. Suddenly he looked out and saw the rocks. His nausea gone, he rushed into the smokeroom. He called out the news to some passengers and stewards before going out on deck again and watching as the ship slowly closed with the reef. "It was as if she couldn't get away from it," he recalled later. He went down below and excitedly told the other two men in his cabin that the ship had hit. They didn't believe him until his friend Paul rushed in with the same story.

Canterbury University student Jan Travaglia had already been on deck. "From the observation deck I was surprised to see how bad the seas were. I retreated quickly as it was very wet outside at this stage. I was not particularly nervous, but I admit I have felt safer." Making his way to the lounge, he sat down and braced himself against the violent motion of the ship, feeling more and more anxious as time went on. A wave broke over the ship and a flood of water poured through an open window. "With the help of another youth I shut the window. Then someone on the other side of the lounge shouted, 'Look at that bloody rock!' I went across to the window and as I reached it the ship hit the reef and lurched violently. Those present realised exactly what had happened."

Deep in the ship the ugly sounds of grounding had mystified many.

page 44

In her E-deck cabin in the bow of the ship, Mrs Ingrid Munro of Christchurch and her seven-year-old daughter Monique had been making good use of the seasick cartons. On their way to visit her family In Auckland while her husband Bob went fishing, they lay in their bunks while their cups sailed into the basin. Somewhere Mrs Munro heard trays crashing to the ground and a cheerful voice saying: "Well, those won't need to be washed will they?" Feeling so sick that she could hardly move, she tried to get dressed. "Then I heard a faint scraping noise and then big hard noises. At first I thought, 'Just my luck to get to Wellington while they're experiencing a major earthquake'. The dull thuds felt more like an earthquake than running aground." The crunching sounds emanating from the side wall soon dispelled that idea: "We were aground. ... I could hardly believe it. I didn't have time to be seasick, and I dressed hurriedly."

On C-deck, George Reid had stepped out of the shower, dressed, and was lacing up his shoes, when there was "a nasty grating sound". He didn't know at that stage that it was Barrett Reef but the thought flashed through his mind. "I felt a little panicky inside." Pulling back the shutter over the porthole he looked out. "All I could see was the raging sea and the occasional glimpse of jagged rocks. The ship was stopped dead. The waves were about 20 feet high and bursting all round and over the rocks. An awe-inspiring sight. I didn't feel very happy."

The Australian tourists, Albert and Gladys Donohoo, were both looking out the porthole at the wild scene outside when they felt a grating sensation on the ship's bottom. Mr Donohoo turned to his wife and said: "She didn't like that." Realising the engines had stopped, they decided to get out and see what had happened.

In the smokeroom, student Kathryn Dallas was still clinging to the curtains, feeling sick, when she felt the ship "seem to lift and crunch, crunch down on something. It was still fairly dark but I saw four or five men in orange lifejackets run past towards the stern and look over the side. The ship seemed to be almost still, which was wonderful after the roughness. In the lounge we wondered what had happened. Someone thought the engines might have been damaged."

The engines were finished. As the Wahine ground on the rocks the starboard propeller and shaft were snapped off like a twig; the cold water of the Strait flooding through the gaping holes in her page 45bottom swamped the port engine some 5 minutes after the grounding. The stricken ship's steel plating was torn like a tin can as her 9,000 tons ground over the greywacke reef. The remorseless seas and gale smashed against her as she lay wounded and helpless. The fate of all those aboard her was now hanging in the balance.

The ship first hit the rocks at 6.41 am. In such a situation few people would think to look at their watches, but Third Officer Noblet on the port telegraph glanced at his as he felt the first bump. He had set it by a radio time-signal the evening before, and as the ship hit the reef the hands pointed to 6.41 precisely.

Captain Robertson's first action following the grounding was to order his chief officer to advise the pilot station on the radio telephone that the vessel was on the reef. Next he ordered the ship's system of watertight doors closed; automatically controlled from the bridge, the heavy steel doors rumbled into place deep in the ship.

The radio officer was in his room checking over his equipment when we heard the chief officer call out, "OK Sparks, tell them we're going ashore." Conscious that the coaster Holmglen had gone down quickly off Timaru in 1959 without completing an emergency call, Lyver dispensed with some of the distress call procedure and immediately tapped out his message: "Going ashore, think near Heads." This was picked up and acknowledged by Wellington Radio which came back a few minutes later seeking the Wahine's exact position. Lyver could not identify any landmarks because of the flying spray, but the Chief Officer told him it was on the reef and he relayed this to Wellington Radio.

With the ship continually graunching on the reef it was obvious the grounding was not just a touch, and the captain's next move was to order the chief officer to drop anchors.

This was not just a question of pulling a switch in the safety of the bridge. It was necessary to go forward to the exposed fo'c'sle head and release the windlass. Taking the bosun Hampson with him, the Chief Officer set off into the screaming hell outside.

Knowing full well the precarious position of his ship and those aboard, the grim-faced captain next pressed the ship's alarm bells. The strident jangling sounded all over the ship. Short, long, short, long, they rang out the morse letter of A for alarm.

At the same time the captain telephoned Purser Brian Clare and told him to tell the passengers over the ship's public-address page 46 system to go to their cabins, if they were not ahead)- in them, to put on their lifejackets and proceed to their muster stations.

The ship appeared to be stationary, but all the time those on the bridge could hear her grinding on the rocks. It seemed to steady her, and for some passengers the change from the violent motion came as a welcome relief. They were anxious and worried by the order to don lifejackets but few seriously believed that the ship was in acute danger. In the cosy and warm interior it was hard to imagine the terrible weather outside, and to realise that though only half a mile from the Breaker Bay coastline, the ship could easily break up and all aboard perish.

In the engine room the chief engineer heard the siren sounding as the watertight doors shut. Both of the engines were out and one of his staff reported that water was flooding into the motor room in the after end of the ship. The submersible pump was switched on in the motor room and he informed the bridge of the situation. With both motors dead, the turbines were shut down.

To see how bad the flooding in the motor room was, the chief engineer climbed up to the vehicle deck and looked through a door set into the engine-room casing. The water was about 2 feet from the deck head. He shot down to the engine room as fast as he could to inspect the bulkhead. It was holding. At this stage the four main engine compartments were dry: the forward boiler room, aft boiler room, auxiliary turbo alternator room, and main alternator room.