Though it has just passed and we are now entering September, there is something about the month of August in this part of the world which seems to upset nature’s equilibrium and makes those of us who live here gird our collective loins.
In my 60 odd years on the Border, I have lived through three major disasters — all in the month of August and all involving water.
The first was the great flood of 1970 which began on August 24 and lasted for seven days and seven nights wreaking havoc in the city and surrounds, inflicting millions of rands of infrastructural damage and depositing more than 800mm of water on its unsuspecting citizens. The second was the wreck of the Oranjeland on August 13, 1974 when after clearing the sheltering arm of the breakwater in filthy weather conditions the 16 000-ton freighter was struck by the full force of a south-westerly gale whipping up tempestuous seas and a violent current. She was promptly swept like a cork onto a reef about 300 metres offshore in front of the Kennaway Hotel where it stuck fast and in defying all attempts at dislodgement provided rich festive season entertainment for both residents, visitors and, I should imagine, a front-row cabaret show for cocktail hour patrons of the hotel. Remnants of her hull can still be seen to this day at springtide.
The third tragedy was the sinking of the MV Oceanos off Coffee Bay on August 3, 1991 about which reams have been written over the years. In this piece I have included some facts from an excellent technical piece written by Andrew Pike, at the time a junior partner in the maritime division of a Durban-based law firm and one of a team which investigated the sinking of the cruise liner.
Among the assorted paraphernalia on top of my bedroom wardrobe is a blue toilet bag on which is inscribed in large white letters “Oceanos.” It is a souvenir from the brief period I spent on the ship a mere 24 hours before an angry ocean swallowed her whole about five kilometres off Coffee Bay.
Let me tell you about it.
At the time I was the editor of the Daily Representative newspaper in Queenstown (now Komani). Some weeks earlier I had received an invitation from the Border furniture baron Winston Sahd, inviting Naomi and myself to the wedding of one of his daughters. Nothing small about Winston — for the occasion he had chartered the MV Oceanos which was in port at East London at the time. We were delighted to join the festivities and sleep aboard on Saturday night.
Accompanied by the then mayor, the late Cllr MH (Johnny) Johnson we arrived at the harbour on Saturday, August 2. Once aboard we were taken down to one of the lower decks by the purser or someone of that ilk. He knocked on one of the cabin doors and politely informed the occupants that the cabin had been booked for two of the wedding guests for the night. The occupants, I might add, happened to be part of the ship’s entertainment troupe. We stood back as an almighty row raged between the ship’s official and the entertainers who stated emphatically there was no way they were going to be evicted! To cut a long story short, they had to leave. It was highly ironic as it was those very people and their fellow entertainers who played a heroic part in the saving of the lives of the entire passenger complement a mere 24 hours later after the captain and his officers disgracefully abandoned ship and left the 500 odd passengers to their fate!
No expense was spared by Winston and everyone was thoroughly spoilt. He had even arranged for wedding guests to be treated to a short cruise to Kei Mouth and back. And here, as far as I am concerned was where the plot thickens.
Shortly after the Oceanos left the harbour on that little jaunt in fair weather, I had the distinct feeling the ship was listing slightly to starboard — an observation echoed by Johnny Johnson. However in the prevailing merriment we soon dismissed the notion as a landlubber’s apprehension. On the way back the ship suddenly stopped and everyone rushed to the starboard side to see what was going on. Lo and behold a figure of a man was seen bobbing about in the sea about half a mile away and a rubber duck was hastily despatched to rescue him. We never discovered why, but it seemed a crew member had either fallen overboard or had jumped. !
That evening an alarmed Johnny Johnson mentioned to me that he had been walking in ankle-deep water in the passages. Again we were happy to assume the crew was aware of the situation. Of course as it turned out they were most definitely not. Anyway we all had a gay evening and disembarked happily for home early the next day.
For some reason I had the bedside radio on late on Sunday night and heard a cruise ship was in deep distress off Coffee Bay. It was the “MV Oceanos.”
No announcements to abandon ship were ever made and no alarms were sounded. Senior officers were seen jumping into lifeboats ahead of passengers and then launching the boats only half full. Eventually the ship ran out of lifeboats leaving about 200 passengers stranded on board.
One of the drama’s outstanding heroes, though, was a young able seaman called Paul Whyley. Paul was a navy diver based in Durban flown to the scene by helicopter.
He immediately began locating passengers and loading them into the helicopter harnesses. But here’s the thing. To Paul’s utter amazement, the ship’s captain, Capt. Yiannis Avranas, showed up to board the second helicopter. When Paul objected, the captain told him that he was going to co-ordinate rescue efforts from the shore!
Paul Whyley received the Honoris Crux Gold of which only six were ever awarded in history.
Were it not for those heroes and the selfless response of the helicopters and passing ships which came to the rescue almost certainly hundreds of lives would have been lost.
