Suddenly Overboard (15 page)

Somewhere down below, buried out of sight in the mess, were soft-pack life rafts. But someone did manage to find some flares.

Alone at the wheel, Andrew tried to get a handheld VHF radio to work but it also failed.

The waves kept pounding the boat, rolling it wildly, the boom swinging crazily side to side. Then the mast broke and fell over to port, luckily missing all crew. The hull pounded the rocks, the rudder broke off, and solid walls of water broke over the boat as it rolled violently on each wave.

Sally and some crew were tethered in, others were not, but almost none of them could hold on in one place as the waves swept them about the cockpit. Often they went underwater as a wave swept over the boat, struggling to breathe after it passed during the brief moments of calm.

No one had any time to make a plan.

Another big wave jolted by, and when it was past, Andrew saw that Sally had been swept through the lifelines on the port side. Her tether was still connected to the port jackline, but she was overboard. Matt and another crew tried to pull her back on board with the tether, but in the turmoil of water they were unable to move her. They saw she was unconscious, going underwater when the boat rolled.

“Big wave!” someone shouted. As it struck and the boat rolled, Matt and another crew were thrown across to the starboard side. The wave slammed Andrew into the port wheel and carried both him and the wheel with the pedestal overboard. He'd never had a chance to put on his PFD or harness.

The big wave lifted the boat and drove it higher onto the rocks in the surging surf and breaking waves. The crew saw they now had an opportunity—and probably a very short window of opportunity—to get off the boat and reach higher ground before the boat broke up.

As a group they jumped between waves and clawed up the rocks out of the surf. They couldn't see Andrew anywhere in the water. Some wanted to go back for Sally in case she was still alive, but when they moved to where they could see the boat's port side between waves, they could not see her. Her body was apparently underwater or had been washed away. The boat was breaking up, and they all realized the danger of even attempting to return to it.

Someone did a head count, and they discovered that in addition to Sally and Andrew, another crew, Nicholas, was also missing. The 15 of them gathered together on the islet. No one had a handheld VHF or even a cell phone. But they had some flares, and two crew activated their PLBs. They began firing off aerial flares at 2:42
A.M
.

Because several other sailboats in the race were nearby, a search began almost immediately. Several boats spotted the flares and approached the islet, saw the wrecked boat, and began searching through the debris field nearby. Soon it was established that
three people were missing, and it wasn't long before another sailboat found Nicholas floating alive in his PFD. Shortly after, Andrew's body was found, with signs of a head injury that may have knocked him unconscious before he drowned. Another sailboat found Sally floating facedown, no longer wearing her PFD or harness and also with an apparent head injury. That crew gave her CPR until she was transferred to a medical crew 30 minutes later, but she was unresponsive and was pronounced dead.

The Cruising Yacht Club of Australia's (CYCA) investigation of the incident focused on factors related to the yacht's fatal grounding but found no single reason or cause. Several contributing factors were cited, however. Although the GPS chartplotter may have shown location inaccuracies, the most important failing was overreliance on the plotter to the extent that no one was on lookout, even at a time when conditions allowed a perfectly clear view of the island ahead. With 18 persons aboard, someone easily could have been forward with a clear view. The fact that no one was on watch, the investigators concluded, was largely due to the skipper's loose organizational approach. In addition, fatigue—the skipper's 7 hours on the helm—was cited as a likely factor in navigational judgments made during the last minutes before the grounding
.

Northern California, November 2011
.
One of the big issues for long-distance solo sailors, of course, is getting enough sleep. Offshore and far from shipping lanes, with the right equipment and good weather, it's manageable, but this sailor had been struggling with gales for the last 2 days of his voyage from Hawaii to California. He'd made this voyage several times before, however, and knew what he was doing. Finally the weather eased, and the exhausted sailor checked the steering wind vane, set his alarm to wake him long before approaching shore, and lay down for a
nap. Sometime later he woke to a brutal pounding as his boat was rocked and slammed down by surf off a beach. With the high, crashing waves it was not safe to try to get off the boat. His VHF radio was on the fritz, but his cell phone had a signal so he called his wife, who called the Coast Guard. The helicopter reached him quickly but was unable to drop a cable because the boat's mast was thrashing about, so they lowered a rescue swimmer nearby to help him off. Over the loudspeaker they told him to stay on the boat, but he sensed time was running out and leaped into the surf just before a big wave struck the boat, which snapped the mast, stove in the portlights, and filled the cabin with water. “Unlucky to sleep through the alarm,” he told friends later, and, repeating what the rescue swimmer had said to him, “Lucky to have gotten off alive.”

Coronado Islands, Mexico, April 2012
.
Four friends ranging in age from 49 to 64 were participating in the Newport to Ensenada race in a 37-foot sailboat. Like the other boats in the race, their position was being tracked by the boat's satellite transponder. Friday's sail was on a light but steady breeze, but after dark the wind died and they turned on the motor, accepting the race penalty for using the engine. The boat most likely was being steered by the autopilot. Around 1:30
A.M
. Saturday, their tracking signal disappeared. Since no distress call or other communication had been received, race officials assumed it was a transponder failure. About 10
A.M
, however, other boats passing through the area off the Coronado Islands started reporting boat debris in the water and the U.S. Coast Guard began a search. Many pieces of the boat were found, including a section of the transom with the boat's name on it. Then, as the search continued, they found three bodies in succession, all battered, none wearing a PFD. They continued searching for the fourth man and found more pieces of the boat, all fairly small and suggesting a violent collision. Sailors on other boats reported seeing a large ship in the area that night and speculation was rife that a ship must have run them over, but why hadn't they seen it? No calls had been made, no apparent evasive action had been taken, and they hadn't even put on their PFDs.
The Coast Guard reported the night had been clear, lit by a half moon, and sea conditions were calm. No one wanted to speculate aloud that the four men—all experienced sailors—might have been in the cabin below with no one standing watch. On Sunday evening the Coast Guard suspended its search for the fourth man. The coroner ruled that two of the three victims had died of blunt-force trauma, reviving the speculation that they had been run over by a large, fast ship. None of the boat debris suggested any other cause such as an explosion.

Then, 2 days later, the boat's GPS transponder track became available and it showed a straight-line course directly into the sheer cliff face of North Coronado Island. The pounding of the boat into the rocks over and over likely resulted in the small pieces of debris, which were then carried away by the current. While some still speculated that the boat might have been run over by a ship and then the transponder floated on and reached the island, it seemed obvious that the boat, motoring at 6 knots, had slammed into the cliff while no one was on lookout. Were they all below, or had a crew on watch in the cockpit fallen asleep?

Six days later the body of the fourth sailor was found washed up on the island not far from the suspected crash site. Later investigation revealed that the emergency button on the SPOT satellite messenger device had actually been activated, but because a GPS position was not transmitted along with the emergency signal, the emergency was not relayed to search-and-rescue authorities, a protocol flaw that was subsequently corrected. The GPS location may not have transmitted if the unit was in the water at the time.

A
nyone who has owned a boat for very long knows that things break down—often, and usually at the worst time. The water is a harsh environment, and the stresses and battering of wind and waves can knock almost anything out of commission. The engine may fail when you most need it, the chartplotter may die in a tricky channel, and the electrical system may give up and bring down instruments and communication equipment, to say nothing of sails or lines tearing or jamming or otherwise becoming inoperable. Experienced mariners say to expect such failures at any time; you should do your best to prevent them but be ready to act quickly when a breakdown leads to a situation that can threaten your safety
.

Jonathan, who was in his early forties, was excited to be embarking on his first sailboat delivery despite the cold March weather in the English Channel. Maybe the weather was why the boat brokerage had hired him for the job, since they likely had more experienced regulars, or maybe it was just that his beginner's fee was lower, but in any case he was pleased to have landed the job. He'd worked hard to earn all his captain's certificates and commercial endorsements, and this was the beginning of what he hoped would become his new career.

The voyage itself, despite the weather, was simple enough—a one- or two-day trip from Southampton to Plymouth. He knew
the Solent and the Channel well and anticipated no problems. The 9-meter sloop
Pastime
, built in Sweden in 1990, sounded like a well-equipped cruiser, and he'd had plenty of experience on boats of its size.

Jonathan's only apprehension as he packed his gear bag Friday morning was about dealing with his crew. Carlyle, the boat's new owner, was a decade older than he, and had said he knew how to sail but needed a refresher because he'd been away from boating for quite a while. Jonathan understood many of his future clients would be on board during the delivery cruise, but he'd heard that owners sometimes challenged the delivery captain or made poor decisions. There can be only one captain on a boat, and Jonathan didn't like arguing.

As soon as they met at the boatyard Friday morning, however, he relaxed. Carlyle seemed like a good egg who wouldn't cause any trouble, and he clearly accepted Jonathan's expertise and role as captain. They'd get along fine for a couple days, he was sure.

The boat, on the other hand, was more problematic than he had anticipated. First, the marina was late in launching it, making the owner worry about their schedule. Then the engine wouldn't start and it took some time before the boatyard mechanic managed to get it running. When it was finally running, they motored to the fuel dock and filled the tank, but it took several attempts to dock back at the marina because the wind was blowing hard off the dock. Finally they got it tied up and set about getting familiar with the gear. Jonathan asked to see the owner's pre-purchase survey of the boat and was a little dismayed to see the survey was only structural and hadn't tested the engine and systems.

At last they were ready to depart midafternoon. Given the delay and the later tide change at the Needles channel at the Solent's west end, they decided to motorsail to make better time. The forecast called for east and northeast winds of Force 5 to 7, so they started out with only a small jib and the engine, headed downwind down the Solent.

With the tidal current, engine, and wind at their back, they flew southwest at a speed over the bottom that the GPS clocked at almost 10 knots. It was cold—the water temperature was only 7°C—but at least they stayed dry in the cockpit. And the boat managed the rising seas well. Jonathan was happy enough to let Carlyle do most of the helming through the afternoon.

Before sunset they discussed a watch schedule for the night. Once they were out of the relatively sheltered Solent in the higher seas of the English Channel, they both admitted to feeling queasy whenever they went below in the cabin, so they decided they'd both stay in the cockpit and take turns trying to sleep there. The wind was still rising and the seas were growing, so Jonathan suggested that Carlyle tether himself in with his harness and safety line. Jonathan's own harness and tether were still in his gear bag, but he wore his life jacket at all times in the cockpit.

Then the engine's overheating alarm went off. Damn, Jonathan thought, there should've been an engine survey. At least they were a long way from being becalmed, although if the wind rose much more, they'd be caught in a gale sweeping the Channel. They shut off the engine and sailed on under the jib.